Rain whispered against the tall windows of the underground lounge, a secretive place buried deep beneath the city where people came to forget things. Shadows clung to the corners of the booth where Jaceon and Jarvis sat, silent for a long time before either spoke. The weight of what they were about to do settled between them like a third presence.
"He's spiraling," Jarvis finally muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "This investigation is driving him insane."
Jaceon exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on the rippling drink in his glass. "He won't sleep. He doesn't eat. He won't even touch me anymore."
"Of course he won't," Jarvis said flatly. He's in pain."
Jaceon flinched.
"Look, I get it," Jarvis continued. "You didn't mean to kill him. You were just doing what we were told to do ..but you know still he's going to sulk because he loves his dad and it won't stop anytime soon."
Jaceon's jaw tightened. "Leon wasn't supposed to be this wicked and a sinner. He wasn't supposed to—"
"But he was," Jarvis interrupted sharply. "And now your lover's tearing apart the world looking for the person who did it. We can't let him get any closer."
Jaceon turned his face away. "I know."
"Then let me do what has to be done."
The plan was simple on paper, but messy in practice. They needed someone—a scapegoat believable enough to end the investigation. Someone expendable, known to law enforcement, with just enough history of violence to make it stick.
Jarvis had just the man.
---
Damon Krieg.
Not a demon. Not a monster in the supernatural sense. But a man who had lived his life like one. He had a long, ugly record,Assaults,Stabbings, Drug trafficking. Two suspected murders in the past, but no conviction. He was a drifter—someone who had slipped through the cracks of the world and disappeared into the mud. No family. No one to care if he vanished.
They found him crouched in a moldy basement, hiding out in one of the city's forgotten districts, surrounded by empty bottles and the smell of mildew.
Jarvis stood over him, hands in his coat pockets. "Damon Krieg?"
Damon squinted at him, unshaven and shaking. "Who's asking?"
"A friend," Jaceon said, stepping in behind Jarvis. "With a deal."
Damon snorted. "I don't make deals with people in suits."
"You will," Jarvis said. "You don't really have a choice."
The conversation that followed was quiet, threatening, and brutal. Jarvis laid everything out—his crimes, the evidence the police hadn't found, and a full portfolio of blackmail waiting to ruin Damon completely. In exchange for his cooperation, they'd ensure a swift trial, a quiet sentence, and a cushioned existence behind bars. No execution. No solitary. Just a quiet ending to a loud, wasted life.
"You want me to confess to killing a CEO?" Damon had laughed at first. "You're insane."
"You'd be surprised how easy it is to believe when your fingerprints are planted on the robe," Jarvis said, almost bored.
"You already set this up?"
"We're just waiting for you to agree to the performance," Jaceon said coldly.
Damon looked between them, then shrugged. "What the hell. At least I get to be remembered for something."
---
Two days later, the news broke.
BREAKING NEWS: "The killer of Leon McLaren, the former CEO and philanthropist murdered brutally weeks ago, has finally been caught. Authorities confirm the arrest of Damon Krieg, a convicted felon with a long history of violent behavior. Krieg confessed early this morning during interrogation. The case, one that has baffled detectives due to the mysterious condition of McLaren's body, is now officially closed."
Levi stood frozen in the living room, one hand clutched around the remote as the words filtered through the TV.
He blinked. "They caught him?"
Jaceon watched from behind the kitchen counter, hands stilling mid-wipe on a glass. "Yeah," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Damon Krieg. Looks like he's been on their radar for a while."
Levi moved to sit slowly, like his body didn't quite believe the news. "He confessed?"
"Apparently. They're saying it matches his profile. Serial tendencies, unstable behavior. A pattern of escalating violence."jaceon responded.
Levi stared at the TV, which now flashed pictures of Damon's arrest—a man with dead eyes, handcuffed and led out of a building, his mouth curled into a crooked smile that sent chills down Levi's spine.
"I thought it would feel… different," Levi muttered. "Hearing they found him."
"You're in shock," Jaceon offered, walking over carefully. "It's been weeks. Maybe now you can rest."
Levi looked up at him. "Did you know about this?"
Jaceon tensed. "No. Just heard it like you did."
Levi nodded slowly, rubbing his face. "I guess… it's over then."
"Yeah," Jaceon whispered. "It's over."
But Levi didn't see the flicker of regret in his eyes.
---
The following days moved in a blur.
Reporters stopped calling. Detectives sent their last formal update. The funeral had passed, the investigation was closed, and people began to move on.
Levi tried.
He went back to the community center his father had funded. Spent time in the garden Leon had started with local school kids. His face still carried grief, but some of the sharpness had dulled. People praised him for his strength. For the way he carried on his father's legacy.
At home, things were quieter. Jaceon kept his distance more often now, unsure of where they stood. Levi didn't pull away, but he didn't reach for him either.
Until one night, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped across his lap, Levi broke the silence.
"You think he really did it?" he asked quietly.
Jaceon turned his head slowly. "Damon?"
Levi nodded. "It just feels strange. The police seemed confused before. Said it was 'unlike anything they'd seen.' Then suddenly, a random guy confesses and it all wraps up neatly?"
Jaceon swallowed. "Why are you asking me?"
Levi shrugged, eyes distant. "I don't know. I guess I just want to believe it's real. That the person who did it is locked up. That I'm not crazy."
"You're not," Jaceon said quickly. "Sometimes we don't get all the answers. But the world still demands we move forward."
Levi looked at him then—really looked at him. For a second, Jaceon feared he might see the truth etched in his face. But Levi simply nodded and leaned back against the cushion.
"Yeah," he said. "You're probably right."
---
Later that night, Jaceon stood alone on the balcony, staring out into the inky skyline. The stars above seemed too bright for the secrets he carried. Behind him, Levi was finally asleep—peaceful, for the first time in weeks.
He had what he wanted.
Levi was safe.
The case was closed.
The truth buried.
And yet… his soul felt heavier than ever.
"I'm sorry," Jaceon whispered to the wind, hoping it would carry the words far away.