The Night Without Echo

Part One The First Shot

The night was perfect at least, it was supposed to be.

Charles Ifeanyis 10th wedding anniversary was in full swing, the kind of celebration he had always dreamed of. He'd just bought a sleek, white yacht his surprise gift to his wife for standing by him through every rough year, every setback, every victory. The laughter of close family filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of music from the speakers. Wine glasses clinked, cigar smoke curled into the cool evening sky, and the ocean whispered against the dock.

Inside the house, Charles wife was chatting with his older brother and their infant daughter sleeping soundly in her arms. His parents sat nearby, enjoying a drink. It was an intimate gathering just the people who mattered most.

Outside, at the far end of the backyard, Charles teenage son Henry leaned against the fence, sharing a blunt with his best friend, Amos. Their voices were low, their laughter muffled as the sweet smoke drifted into the night.

Henry passed the blunt to Amos. Amos reached out for it and in that moment, something invisible cut through the air.

A hole bloomed in Amos head. Blood sprayed across Henry's face.

It happened so fast, so clean, there was no sound no warning. Amos's body crumpled at Henrys feet, the blunt rolling away in the grass, still burning.

Henry froze. His brain screamed run, but his legs felt like stone. He stumbled toward the house, desperate to call out.

What he saw when he stepped inside would never leave him.

His grandparents lay on the floor, lifeless. Dark holes in their skulls. Their chests ripped with savage stab wounds, as if some wild animal had torn into them. Blood pooled beneath their bodies, soaking into the carpet.

In the living room, the rest of the family was bound to chairs Charles, his wife still clutching their baby, and his older brother. Their eyes were wide with shock and terror.

Standing behind them were figures dressed head to toe in black, their faces hidden by masks.

Before Henry could make a sound, one of them turned, raised a pistol, and fired.

The bullet tore through his neck. He collapsed instantly, choking on blood.

No one outside heard a thing.

The music played on. The ocean kept whispering.

And the night went on without an echo.