The villa smelled like new beginnings—and antiseptic.
It was late afternoon. The worst had passed. Blood had been scrubbed from the tiles, the bodies disposed of, the wounded stitched and sedated. But some scenes wouldn't leave easily, no matter how much bleach or silence they poured over it.
Inside the sunlit drawing room, Nox sat on the floor, legs folded beneath him in a loose crouch, sleeves rolled up. Three dismantled rifles lay before him in patient order, oily cloth in one hand, a screwdriver balanced on his knee. The golden glint of bullets shimmered on the tray beside him like cursed jewelry.
Leo was lying on the couch behind him, one arm behind his head, shirt half untucked and bruised. His eyes had a lazy squint to them—but he hadn't looked away from Nox since the cleaning started.
It was a ritual now. A rhythm.
As Nox worked on the firing pin, Leo reached down.
Flick.
The little heart-shaped Hello Kitty belly piercing wobbled from the tap. Red enamel caught the sunlight like a dare.
Nox didn't even flinch. "You flick it again, I'll wire it to a mine."
"You've said that every day for a week."
"This time, I mean it."
Leo smiled to himself, turning his gaze to the ceiling. "You keep wearing midriff shirts."
"They're comfortable."
"And you're wearing my sweatpants."
"They're tighter."
Leo snorted quietly. "You're impossible."
Nox reassembled the second rifle, set it aside, and without looking up, spoke in a low voice.
"We need to start a weaponry company."
Leo raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"As a front," Nox clarified. "Clean business. International reach. No more pretty felonies or impromptu wars. If we're going to do this—rule—then we're going to do it the smart way."
Leo sat up, half-wincing from the bandage on his ribs. "Weapons company? That's not small-time."
"I know."
"You're saying we go corporate?"
"I'm saying we take everything." Nox turned, gaze sharp. "You want to hold territory, Leo? Then you need to make every man with power kneel. Not with bullets. With influence. Arms. Economy. Reputation."
Leo's fingers drummed on the couch edge. "We don't have that kind of money."
"I'll take care of it."
That stopped Leo short. "What?"
Nox looked at him. "Let me handle the funding. You handle the empire."
Leo blinked slowly. "You're serious."
"I always am."
---
Meanwhile... in the Garden of Gossip
Dominik sat on a stone bench, his leg in a cast propped up on a flowerpot, a ridiculous pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. Beside him, Leo's father—his former boss—sat stiffly in his wheelchair, half-draped in a blanket, alive but paralyzed from the waist down. Together, they watched the scene inside the villa through the open glass doors.
"I told you," Dominik hissed, pushing the sunglasses up. "Did you see the flick? That boy touched his piercing like they've been married for seven years and know each other's grocery lists by heart."
The boss exhaled heavily. "They're discussing empire building."
"While shirtless!" Dominik pointed accusingly. "With bullet wounds! And Leo's in his pants! What next? Matching guns engraved with pet names?!"
The boss didn't reply, eyes narrowed on Nox as he cleaned the final rifle with mechanical grace.
"I swear to the saints," Dominik muttered, "they're either going to build a multi-billion dollar weapons conglomerate... or adopt a cat and emotionally self-destruct."
The boss said quietly, "Either way, the future's in their hands now."
Dominik paused. Then sighed. "We're doomed."
---
Back Inside: Post-War Planning
Nox clicked the final piece into place, then holstered the rifle in its padded case. Leo was watching him, face unreadable.
"Why are you doing this?" Leo finally asked.
"Because you're not your father," Nox replied calmly. "And I'm not a soldier anymore. You need something new. And I…" He trailed off.
Leo waited.
"I need this to matter," Nox said simply. "Otherwise, I'm just a weapon with no target."
Leo stared at him.
Then stood.
He reached for the rifle case, brushed his fingers over Nox's briefly, then locked eyes with him. "Then we make it matter."
Nox nodded once. Quiet. Certain.
From the garden, Dominik shouted faintly, "JUST SAY YOU LOVE EACH OTHER ALREADY, YOU SUGAR-DRENCHED WARCRIMES!"
Leo and Nox looked at each other.
"Did you hear that?" Leo asked.
"No," Nox replied flatly.
"Good."