Chapter 5 - The Master’s True Face
Viktor stood at his full height, wiping a trace of sweat from his upper lip. The fear in his eyes began to curdle into something far more dangerous—the cold, calculating cruelty of a cornered predator.
He glanced at his six junior students, who were watching him with wide, horrified eyes.
"Class dismissed," Viktor ordered, his voice dropping all pretense of discipline. "Get out. All of you. Now."
The students didn't hesitate. They scrambled to their feet, bowing hurriedly, and rushed out the side entrance, their bare feet slapping frantic rhythms against the hallway floor until the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them.
Now, only four people remained in the dojo: Viktor, Emma, Sarah, and the ghost of Gabriel Miller.
Viktor reached down and slowly untied his black belt. He slid the heavy cotton strip through his fingers, letting it fall onto the mat like a dead snake.
"You're sharp, kid," Viktor said, his voice dropping into a flat, raspy tone stripped of all theatrical grandmaster polish. "Gabriel was a fool. He thought he could write a report to the Inspector General and walk away. He didn't understand how deep Blackwood went."
He looked at Sarah, a cruel smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "And you, Sarah... hiring you as a cleaner wasn't an accident. It was insurance. I wanted to keep Gabriel’s family under my thumb where I could see you every single day."
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"You killed him," Sarah whispered, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks. "He trusted you. He called you his brother."
"Trust is a liability in our line of work," Viktor said softly. He stepped off the mat onto the polished oak floorboards, his posture shifting into a wide, low street-fighting stance. "And so are witnesses."
