3: ?

After spending the rest of the early hours driving around, familiarising himself with the layout of the small town, he sat waiting in his car for the rental agency to open.

He'd booked a private house off a homeshare website, just a few hours ago, hoping to be discreet. Two days earlier, he'd also booked a cheap motel for several weeks from now.

His target, Henrik Leighton, owned the larger hotel, and both of the motels in the town. He knew he'd be checking the bookings for anything unusual, especially at this time of year. With any luck, he'd have a few weeks before Henrik expected him here.

The property manager was late, and looked half asleep. He guessed they didn't appreciate the early start this far into the off season. He felt little sympathy for that, given the odd - and long - hours that he usually worked.

After finally getting the keys, he headed for the lush-looking holiday house. Having deliberately chosen one close to the water, it had gorgeous views, but was very much empty during the colder months in the mostly-tourist town. He hoped most neighbouring it were similar, just a summer holiday house for some wealthy out-of-towners. And not of any interest to Henrik.

He parked his car in the large double garage, carried his few cases inside, and went looking for the main bedroom, with its expansive ensuite. After letting his brothers know of his arrival via their encrypted group chat, he left his phone on charge while he stripped off and showered, before closing all the blinds and climbing into the large, comfortable king bed to sleep through the day.

He awoke suddenly, to a strange, unsettling sensation. Like something pulling at him, tugging at every fibre of his existence, beckoning him closer. It immediately set him on edge.

He grabbed at his phone, checking the time, and swearing under his breath. It was only late-afternoon. He should still be sleeping. He got up for some water, then stood with his hands on the sink, staring at his reflection. 'What the fuck is that?!'

Nothing looked strange - his reflection was the same intimidating, scarred, dark-featured, heavily muscled form it always was - yet he couldn't shake that feeling. If anything, it was growing ever so slowly stronger. And it was pissing him off.

Growling softly, he splashed his face with cold water, threw on some clothes, grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, and left.

As he strolled casually towards the centre of town, the feeling was still there, and still growing in intensity. He disliked it immensely. It felt like some sort of manipulation, and raised all kinds of red flags in his mind. Something felt seriously off in this town.