Alex leaned in. "You're the one who brought this to my door. I was minding my own business. Now you're going to answer. Who. Else. Knows."
The man grimaced, still defiant. "Tch… You're dead anyway, freak. You think no one noticed you cleaned up Sam's trash? Word spreads fast. There are others… guys way worse than me. Ones who'll actually kill for that money."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "Names."
Silence.
Alex grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forward, forcing eye contact. The man's defiance wavered under that stare.
"You don't get it, do you?" Alex said, his voice calm—but coiled with threat. "I'm not bluffing. You've seen what I can do. And I didn't even try."
The gang leader's breath hitched. "Alright! Alright! Just… don't break anything else…"
He looked away, jaw clenched.
"There's a guy named Vorn. Real scumbag. Ex-fixer. Works under a mid-tier syndicate in Queens. He used to deal with Sam. Sam owed him favors, maybe more. He's been sniffing around ever since Sam vanished."
Alex filed the name away. "Vorn. What does he want?"
"What else? The money. The stash. Maybe whatever else Sam was hiding. I don't know everything, I swear—he's paranoid, doesn't even tell his crew. But… word is, Sam was supposed to drop something off. Not just cash. Something important."
Alex frowned slightly. "What kind of 'something'?"
The leader shrugged weakly. "I don't know! Just rumors. Might be nothing. Might be something big. But if Vorn thinks you have it… he'll come. And he's not the type to talk."
Alex let go of the man's collar, letting him slump fully to the ground. "You got one warning. If I see you or your crew near me again… you won't be able to talk."
The thug nodded quickly, chest heaving.
Alex turned his back on him, stepped over the two unconscious goons, and calmly picked up his plastic bag from the sidewalk. His expression didn't change. But his mind was racing.
Vorn. Something more than money.
Sam… what the hell were you mixed up in?
"And what the hell is with this talk about cleaning up Sam's stash? I didn't touch any of his crap," Alex mumbled to himself as he walked inside his home, frowning.
He headed straight to his hidden spot—where he had stashed the key Sam had dropped.
"It's not here…" Alex muttered as he stared at the empty box, eyes scanning it up and down.
Only one name came to mind.
"Sue. That bitch…" he growled, kicking the box aside in frustration.
"Haaah…" Alex released a long sigh as he rubbed his face. "Now what the hell was that even about? That messed-up bald guy made it sound like Sam had something serious stashed away."
He paused, thinking. Maybe whatever it was… died with him. But even as he considered letting it go, something in him refused. There were too many loose ends. Too many lies.
He stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed to his room to get ready.
**
Not long after, Alex was riding his bike across town, the wind cutting past his ears as he made his way toward Sue's place.
Whether she liked it or not, she was going to give him some answers.
The city around him blurred as Alex rode through the late afternoon haze, his bike tires humming along the cracked pavement. The wind tousled his hair and stung his eyes, but he didn't slow down. His focus was razor-sharp—locked on one destination.
Sue's neighborhood wasn't far, but it felt like a different world from where Alex lived. Rows of apartment blocks lined the street, paint peeling off their exteriors, with broken fences and sun-bleached toys littering small front yards. Everything felt old, tired, and strangely familiar—like a place that had seen too many secrets.
He turned onto a side road, then slowed as he approached her building.
Sue's place was tucked between a boarded-up laundromat and a convenience store that never seemed open. Her unit was on the second floor, the staircase rusted and leaning, creaking under his weight as he made his way up.
Alex reached the door.
The number on it was barely hanging by one nail, and graffiti covered the wall nearby. He raised his hand to knock—but paused. His other hand slowly balled into a fist.
He wasn't here for revenge.
He was here for the truth.
He knocked—firmly, three times.
Then he waited, shoulders tense, every instinct in him buzzing like static before a storm.
But then he waited... and waited.
No answer.
Alex narrowed his eyes. The street was quiet—too quiet. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. He looked around once more, then stepped back and focused on the door.
Click. Crack.
With one sharp twist of the Devil Cane and a solid push, the lock gave way. The door creaked open.
Inside was chaos.
The apartment looked like it had been hit by a storm—furniture overturned, drawers yanked open, cushions slashed. Broken glass crunched under his boots as he stepped inside. A chair lay split in two near the wall. Papers and clothes were scattered across the floor like confetti at a riot.
But what made him stop cold… was the streak of dark red across the wall.
A bloodstain. Dried. Sloppily wiped, but still clear.
"It seems," Alex muttered, jaw clenched as he stepped farther in, "she was paid a visit too."
He scanned the room, sharp eyes picking up signs of a struggle—scuffed floorboards, a torn shoe strap, and a trail of faint blood drops leading toward the back door.
The place had been raided, but not by amateurs. Whoever came here… wanted something—and made sure to leave a message.
Alex slowly exhaled.
"Sue... what the hell did you get yourself into?"
"I hope you're right," Alex mumbled, his voice low and tense. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he had to make sure she was alright.
He knew Sue well enough to know she was tough—kind-hearted but with a complicated past that hadn't made her life easy. If anyone could handle trouble, it was her. But this? This felt different.
*******
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