Chapter 3 - SHADOWS OF THE PAST
The ride to Damon’s fortified penthouse was a blur of neon lights and rain-slicked streets. Once inside, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket with a cup of hot tea, Adriana finally broke.
“Eli didn’t die in a mugging, Damon,” she wept, the tears carving tracks through the flour and dust on her cheeks. “Three nights after the funeral, men came to the apartment. They had guns. They were looking for a ledger. I climbed down the fire escape in the freezing rain. I’ve been hiding ever since.”
Damon’s jaw tightened until the muscles threatened to snap. Eli had died taking a bullet meant for Damon during a syndicate ambush, but this meant the ambush wasn't just a rival gang—it was an inside job, a coordinated strike. Someone had wanted both Damon and his most loyal brother dead.
“Did you see their faces?” Damon asked, his tone laced with a terrifying calm.
May you like
“No,” she whispered. “But I saw a tattoo on the leader’s neck. A crown interwoven with a maritime anchor.”
Damon froze. It was the private security insignia of Walter Marlowe.
