SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 314: Promise in the Rain

Time felt as if it slowed down while the final hostages were being secured.

I didn’t wait for the others.

The second Lily’s voice cracked on the phone, the second I heard her broken sobs and the word Charlie, I was already moving, boots slamming against the wet pavement, the rain hitting my face like needles.

I didn’t think.

I didn’t let myself.

I just ran.

Past the blinking lights of patrol cars, past the quiet hum of the precinct’s radio chatter, past Grant calling my name.

I ran.

The city blurred by, the rain turning everything into streaks of color and shadow, streetlights smearing like ghosts in my periphery. The cold air burned in my lungs, every breath sharp, every step pounding in my head like a drumbeat.

Charlie.

Hyena had Charlie.

The kid who had once asked me to help him find his mom with Camille. The kid who had brought seamless joy and peace to our apartment.

I’d told myself not to care. I needed to calm myself.

But I couldn’t.

It took me twelve minutes.

Twelve minutes of running like something was tearing itself out of my chest, of cutting across streets, vaulting fences, moving through alleys slick with rain and oil.

By the time I saw Lily’s street, I could taste blood in my mouth from how hard I was biting down, the rain dripping off my hair, my mask hanging uselessly around my neck, forgotten.

The house was there.

Lights on.

Front door open, hanging crooked on its hinges, the night swallowing the warm yellow glow from inside.

And Lily—

Lily was on the front steps, clutching the railing, blood on her temple, her clothes soaked, her shoulders shaking as she cried, her breath catching in sharp, broken sobs.

I slowed down just enough not to bowl her over, moving up the steps, reaching for her, steadying her.

"Lily," I said, my voice quiet, too quiet for the way the world was screaming in my head.

She flinched at first, then looked up at me, her eyes red and terrified, her lips trembling.

"Rey—Reynard—he—he—" Her words dissolved into a sob, her knees buckling.

I caught her before she fell, holding her upright, feeling how light she was, how fragile, how her fingers clawed at my coat, leaving streaks of blood and rain.

"Lily. Lily. Look at me." I tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes. "Where did they go?"

Her eyes darted toward the house, back to me, unfocused. "I—I don’t know—I was in the kitchen—he came from the back—he—he said—he said something about you—I tried to stop him—"

She broke again, sobs tearing out of her like wounds reopening.

"It’s okay," I said, pressing her head against my chest, letting her cry, even as every second felt like a knife against my skin.

"It’s not okay!" she screamed into my coat. "He took Charlie! He took my baby!"

"I know," I whispered.

And I meant it.

Because I knew what it meant to have everything ripped away.

The sound of footsteps behind me made me look up, my hand already moving toward the holster under my coat.

Anthony.

Two officers with him, weapons lowered, breathing hard, rain dripping from their helmets.

They’d followed me.

Good.

Anthony’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, Lily’s blood, the broken door, the way I was holding her.

"Boss—what happened?"

I lowered Lily to sit on the steps, crouching in front of her, brushing her wet hair back from her face, ignoring the way my gloves came away red.

"Lily," I said, steady, firm, the way you talk to someone on the edge. "I’m going to find him. I’m going to get Charlie back. I promise you that."

Her eyes met mine, wide, desperate, searching for something to hold onto.

"Promise me, Reynard," she whispered.

"I promise."

I stood, turning to the officers, my voice cold, clean.

"Take her to the hospital. Now."

One of the officers nodded, moving forward to help Lily up, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, speaking softly.

Anthony stepped closer, his breath misting in the cold air, eyes darting toward the house, the broken door, the rain-slick street.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"Hyena," I said. "He took Charlie."

Anthony’s face went pale, the water dripping off the brim of his cap, his jaw tightening. "Who is Charlie, Boss?"

"A kid that me and Camille babysitted."

The word felt like poison in my mouth.

That was when my phone rang.

Not the burner.

Not the precinct line.

My main phone.

The one Hyena knew.

The screen lit up with a number I didn’t recognize, but I knew.

I knew it was him.

I answered.

"Hyena."

There was no mocking laughter this time.

No calm, oily words.

Just rage.

"You think you’re clever, huh?" Hyena’s voice exploded through the speaker, so loud I had to pull the phone back from my ear. "You think you can play me, Reynard?!"

I didn’t respond.

The rain was falling harder now, drumming on the pavement, on the roof of the house, on the hood of the police cruiser parked down the street.

"You think you can clear my hostages, ruin my plans, and just walk away?"

His voice was wild, unhinged, every word spit out like a curse.

"You’ve got two hours, Reynard. Two hours to fulfill the rest of the demands. If you don’t—"

There was a muffled sound in the background.

A cry.

Small.

Afraid.

"—the kid dies. Right here. On the spot."

Hyena’s breathing was ragged, vicious, like an animal pacing in a cage.

"Don’t test me. I will do it. I will. I don’t give a shit about this kid. He means nothing to me."

Psychological Insight and Lie Detection were telling me that he wasn’t lying. Unlike the other hostages, he had no regrets or remorse for whatever would happen to Charlie.

The rain seemed to fade into silence, the world narrowing to that voice, that threat, that cry.

Charlie’s cry.

Then the call cut off.

I stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to my ear, the rain dripping from my hair, from my chin, running down the back of my neck.

The rage that filled me wasn’t loud.

It was quiet.

Cold.

Controlled.

Pure.

I slid the phone back into my pocket, turning to Anthony.

"Boss—"

I didn’t say anything.

I just looked at him.

And he understood.

I motioned with my hand, a small, sharp movement.

Follow me.

Because I knew where Hyena would go.

I knew him.

I knew the way he thought, the way he moved.

But I wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Not here.

Not with Hyena likely listening through my phone.

Anthony nodded, falling into step beside me, his hand brushing the grip of his weapon, his eyes locked on mine.

We moved into the rain, away from the broken house, away from the lights, away from the sobs of a mother who had lost everything.

We moved into the dark.

This chapter is updated by freew(e)bnovel.(c)om