I took his phone and squatted in front of him again, watching him twitch like a dying roach. His face was pale, sweat smeared across his brow, and tears were threatening, but I didn't care. This wasn't about comfort. This was about leverage.
"You wanna live?" I asked calmly, flipping the blade in my hand like it was plastic. "You're gonna make a little call for me. Tell your boyfriend to come join the party."
He looked up at me, eyes wide, throat working like he wanted to protest.
"I don't give second chances," I warned, pressing the edge of the blade to his neck. "Call. Now. And make it convincing."
His trembling fingers swiped and tapped on his call log. I caught a glance at the name. Jay.
Figures. They always traveled in rats.
The phone rang once, twice, and then a voice picked up. Loud. Cocky.
"Yo? You find him?"
The guy I had on the ground took a shaky breath and pulled his voice together like duct tape over broken glass.
"Yeah… I think I did. His face is still covered but… the walk, the voice, it's definitely him."
"Where are you?"
He gave our location. I memorized the tone. Kept every detail locked in.
"Don't tell anyone else," he added, eyes flicking to me as I mouthed the words. "Just come alone. We can plan from here, take him down fast."
The other guy agreed, dropped a half-laugh about how this would be their payday, then hung up.
I gave the bastard a pat on the cheek and whispered, "Good boy."
I tied him up. Tight. Ankles, wrists, mouth gagged now too because he'd served his purpose. I left him behind a stack of crates in the alley's back corner, still bleeding, still breathing. He wouldn't die, not yet. I needed him to watch what came next.
I took the high ground, rooftop across the alley, crouched behind a busted old vent with a perfect view of the brick wall and shadows below. The pain in my side pulsed like a warning siren, but I ignored it. My blood was hot with adrenaline.
Five minutes later, footsteps echoed through the alley.
Target acquired.
Another young face, Jay, jittery in the eyes but cocky in the mouth. Tall, lean, wearing street gear and a shit-eating grin. He walked right into the killbox.
Right. Into. It.
I waited. Patient.
Then dropped behind him like the ghost of a bad decision.
The moment he heard the sound, it was too late, my boot connected with the back of his knee, and he collapsed with a grunt.
Before he could reach for anything, I pressed the tip of the blade to the base of his neck.
"Don't move," I whispered. "Wouldn't want to slice anything vital."
He froze.
"Good. Now let's go have a talk with your friend."
I dragged them to a little hideout Kyle told me about days ago. Tucked deep into the corner of a street. A mostly-abandoned car workshop just a few blocks from Kina's apartment, long forgotten by the neighborhood because the owner was locked up years ago.
The workshop looked like death.
Not fresh death, old. Rusted. Faded. Like no one would care if something started rotting here again. It was perfect. The old signage overhead dangled like a snapped neck, and the reek of oil, metal, and mildew hung in the air thick enough to chew. I could still hear the buzzing of flies somewhere behind the walls. Probably an animal carcass left to decay.
Fitting.
I dragged the twitching body of our clever little one who fell for the trap, into the center of the room. He was tied tight to a heavy metal chair, rust flaking off the sides. Duct tape bit into his ankles and wrists. A zip tie pressed against his throat, just loose enough to let him breathe and talk. His gag was an old oil rag I'd found on the ground, and I pressed it to his mouth again to muffle the sounds while I checked on his buddy.
The first one, the smartass who said he always knew me, was barely conscious. His body slumped in an old wheelbarrow. I'd left his legs raw, muscle twitching from the tendons I'd carved through like ribbon. I didn't need him awake yet.
The second would do just fine.
I ripped the gag off him with a wet shlop and crouched in front of him, blade resting lazily on my knee, catching the dim light through the cracked windows. He was already sweating.
"Alright," I said, voice low, calm, dangerously polite. "Let's try something easy."
He whimpered.
"Who sent you?"
He swallowed. "I–I don't know his real name, just, just goes by Reddick. I was contacted through encrypted drops, dead zones in the slums, okay? I never saw his face."
Not the answer I wanted.
I leaned forward and slammed the butt of my blade into his thigh, right where I knew the muscle would cramp and burn. He screamed.
"Don't lie," I said. "Your friend said he knew me, so don't pretend you know nothing."
"I swear, he works for Scorpion!" Jay gasped, eyes wide. "But I don't think he's the main guy. There's been movement. Multiple cells splitting, claiming territories, testing loyalty."
I paused.
Bingo.
"What were your orders?"
"Track. Confirm. If it's you… relay back. If we had a clean shot, take it."
"So you were meant to kill me?"
The idiot didn't answer fast enough.
I grabbed a rusted socket wrench off the tool bench behind me and slammed it into his side, just under the ribs. The crunch echoed like a promise. He screamed again, spit flying, tears streaking down his face.
"Yes! Kill or capture!" he sobbed. "Whichever was cleaner!"
"Who are you with?" I asked, breathing slow. "What faction?"
He hesitated again.
I stabbed the blade straight through his palm.
He howled, jerking so hard the chair scraped against the floor.
"Scorpion," he croaked, voice breaking. "We're with Scorpion. But he's not alone, he's building a council, picking up old crews, bribing Roman loyalists. Trying to reshape the table before you can come back."
I stood up, pacing a little.
"They think I'm dead?"
"Some do. Some think you ran," Jay muttered. "The rest… they think you're waiting. That you're hiding until you can gut the whole board clean."
I smiled darkly.
"They already figured me out huh. Too bad."
I walked back to him slowly, crouching once again, this time closer.
"Tell me who's already taken a seat."
"I, I don't know all of them. Reddick, Tanso, Vega, he controls the ports now. And there's a woman, calls herself 'Madame C.' She's ruthless. And rich. Funded a lot of this."
"Any of my men turn?"
He went quiet.
Wrong move.
I twisted the knife in his palm.
"S-STOP!" he cried. "Lenny. I heard Lenny flipped. The one who ran your North Sector routes. And Ajax. He joined the Tanso crew last week. That's all I know, I swear it!"
I pulled the blade out in one quick jerk and wiped it on his shirt, smearing the blood like paint.
I turned my head toward the wheelbarrow.
"Time to wake up your friend."