Mathias's hands wouldn't stop shaking.

The envelope from Issac sat heavy on the coffee table, its contents burning through the cheap paper—a name, an address, a deadline. Tonight. His first kill order. The syndicate's test.

He paced the length of their living room, fingers tugging at his hair. The floorboards creaked under his restless steps, each sound too loud in the silence. His reflection in the darkened TV screen looked foreign—pale, wide-eyed, a stranger wearing his face.

"Prove you're not a rat," Issac had said, staring at him firmly

The bathroom faucet dripped. A clock ticked. Somewhere downstairs, a neighbor laughed. Normal sounds for a world that had stopped making sense.

Mathias's phone buzzed—Yosef's daily update, probably another rambling text about his calculus midterm. He couldn't open it. Couldn't drag his little brother into this.

The key turned in the front door.

Mathias froze as his friend stepped inside, shrugging off his coat.

"Hey!" Mathias blurted out, voice cracking as he shoved the envelope behind his back. His palms were slick with sweat, the damn thing practically burning through his dress shirt.

He forced a laugh that came out too high. "How—how was the meeting? You get that warehouse situation handled? You look—tired. Here, let me—"

Mathias fumbled for his friend's coat, fingers brushing the collar before jerking back like he'd been shocked. The envelope crinkled audibly in his grip.