Novels by Canice Hays

Murray went rigid. “I, he was there. He was with Nolan. He could be the conduit.”Donovan’s gaze sharpened until it cut. “And if he’s the conduit, why did you make him public? Why did you not bring me silence and a name? You acted for adulation, not results.”Murray swallowed. “I thought?”“You thought like a man who wants noise,” Donovan said. “Noise is useless. Answers are currency.”The room trembled with the weight of that statement. Murray’s face opened like someone who’d been told his hand was empty.“Find me the leak,” Donovan said. “Quietly. Bring me facts, not theater. If you cannot, you will prove yourself expendable.”Murray’s shoulders sagged like a man who’d been given a razor and told to judge himself. He had sought glory and, in pursuit, exposed his own incompetence.Victor, watching Donovan’s office from the shadowed edge of the tower via Lena’s small, nervous texts, felt a grim, efficient pleasure. His plan had not required a corpse; it required a crack. Murray had p

The morning rush was a blade, sharp, relentless. Newsstands spat out headlines; voices in cafés rose with the tempo of gossip. Donovan’s name trembled on the lips of clerks and cabbies like a rumor that had learned to bite.Victor watched the city pull at the thread he had set and felt a cold satisfaction. He sat on a battered bench outside a courthouse.The ledger safely hidden beneath his jacket, and let the system whisper options and probabilities into the back of his skull.[Operation Murray: Active][Public sentiment: Malleable] [Ally position: Lena (internal)][Suggested Next: Observe Murray’s reaction; exploit missteps]A paper snapped into his lap, Mira, always precise, delivered it like a practiced handoff. She collapsed beside him, breathless and bright, as if reveling in the electricity.“Did you see it?” she asked, fingers trembling. “Front page. Nolan’s ledger name Lark & Stone. It’s all over the feeds.”Victor nodded without looking at the headline. “Good. Murray will

“Tell me again why I should trust you,” Lena asked, voice thin as paper. Her office smelled of printer toner and a nervousness that had soaked into the upholstery.Victor didn’t flinch. He sat with easy patience, the ledger folded in a small, unassuming case on his lap. “Because if you don’t, Murray will break you in two and call it efficiency,” he said. “Because if you don’t, Donovan will patch your name on the public board and watch it rust. Because if you help me, you keep the one thing you need most, control.”Lena’s hands twisted in her lap. “You think Donovan will give me control if I help you sling dirt at his men?”“I don’t think,” Victor said. “I know how men like Donovan value the illusion of order. You give him a solved problem, someone to blame, and he rewards the fixer who found the tidy answer. You want reassignment? Promotion? A clean record? You help us sew the pattern we want him to see.”Lena’s laugh was brittle. “You make it sound like charity.”“It’s not charity.”

The vendor shrugged. “A kid. Called it a favor. Said a man on Mercer told him to hand it to you.”Murray’s muscles bunched. “Where’s Mercer?”“Two blocks. Ask around.” The vendor already had the next customer in mind. Murray left like a man on rails, the scrap burning his pocket.He found Mercer busy, the alleys congested with morning trade. A messenger boy pointed toward a stairwell. “Saw a group leave. A wet man, a girl, a kid.” He spat. “Shouldn’t be here.”Murray’s eyes narrowed. The description fit Victor’s rumor-perfect face. He marched back to Donovan Tower as if blood were a map and he could follow it. He didn’t know Victor, but he would make him known. Victor watched Murray’s approach from two windows away. The man moved fast; he carried panic like a cloak. Victor felt the system’s cool annotation: [Murray: impulsive] [Predictable response: Direct confrontation] [Suggested manipulation vector: Staged public humiliation followed by internal blame]Victor dialed a number,

“Donovan wants the rat found,” Murray barked into his communicator, pacing the private hallway like a caged thing. “Find him. Bring him to me. No questions.”A clipped voice answered on the line. “Already on it, Murray. Check the Mercer feeds. There was a leak this morning.”Murray spat, anger raw. “A leak? I want a name, not gossip. I want a face that I can break.”He slammed the phone shut and forced a smile for the men waiting with him, two hulking enforcers who read loyalty like a ledger. “We’ll sweep Mercer. We clear Nolan. No one touches Donovan.”Outside Donovan Tower, the city moved as if nothing had happened. Inside, a man named Murray moved like a man whose pride had been singed. He had orders. He had fear. He had to show results.“Find him,” Donovan said later, in a voice that sounded like an exam you couldn’t pass. His office smelled of mahogany and the slow burn of expensive liquor. He laid the printed feed on his desk, hands steepled. “Bring me the one who took my paper.

They split, Mira to the safehouse, Kai to watch, Victor to the shadows where the city speaks in soft threats. He unwrapped the oilcloth with hands that were steady now. The ledger’s pages were dense with names and numbers, bribes penciled beside company stamps, dates, small notations of “paid” and “settled.” It was a map of favors and a machine for making people pay. He ran a finger along a line where a name, Donovan Enterprises, appeared with a series of small, coded references to another shell company named Lark & Stone. Victor’s throat tightened. “Donovan used a shell to launder funds?” Mira said, peering over his shoulder. “That’s big.”“Bigger,” Victor said. He felt the system’s cold calculation. [Target identified: Murray][Secondary target: Donovan’s internal account Lark & Stone][Suggested action: Public exposure of Nolan to force the rest of the network to reveal themselves.]Victor’s smile sharpened. “We don’t just keep this. We put it where everyone can read it.”Mira

Charlie stood in the broken clinic and did not move. Water dripped from a cracked pipe in the ceiling. Blood mixed with it on the floor and ran in thin red lines toward a drain that did not work. The lights above him flickered and buzzed, going dim, then bright again, like the room was breathing.Three people lay on cots. The man on the left held his chest with both hands. Every breath made a wet sound. His eyes were open, wide and glassy, and they followed Charlie wherever he moved.The woman near the wall shook as if the cold had reached her bones. Her leg was crushed beneath torn cloth and metal. Bone showed through. Her hands clawed at the sheets without knowing it. The third body lay still. Too still.Charlie looked at them one time. Just one. He did not speak. He did not promise anything. He did not pray.He lifted both hands. His fingers spread apart, slow and careful, as if the air itself might break. Near his left wrist, a faint light appeared. The system icon flickered into

Charlie stood at the edge of the forest and did not move.The trees were close together here. Their trunks blocked the wind. The ground was dark with old leaves and wet soil.He took one slow step forward. Nothing attacked him. No sound followed. He took another step.Charlie closed his eyes and placed his hand on his chest. He pressed once, hard. The mark beneath his skin responded. His breath stopped. The world shifted.When he opened his eyes, the forest was not the same. Plants glowed. The glow was faint. It was not light like fire. It was more like a thin skin over each leaf and stem.Layers appeared. One layer faded as another came forward. Charlie turned his head slowly.Bushes showed pale green veins. Vines showed yellow nodes. Moss shimmered in dull blue patches across rocks.He crouched. The ground pulsed with small lights. Roots traced clear paths under the soil.Charlie reached toward a fern and stopped his hand short. A thin panel of symbols appeared beside the plant.He

The fox lay on its side in the dirt. Its chest rose once, then again. Blood still darkened its fur.Charlie stood a few steps away. He did not move. His hands stayed open, fingers stiff. The fox twitched. One leg kicked. Its ears flicked.Charlie took a step back. Gravel slid under his boot. The fox rolled onto its belly. It pushed itself up with shaking legs. The wound along its ribs had closed. Only a thin line remained.Charlie’s jaw tightened. He watched the fox breathe. Each breath came easier.The fox shook itself. Dried blood cracked and fell away. Its eyes locked on Charlie.Charlie felt his arms go heavy. The weight settled into his muscles. His shoulders sank.He clenched his fists. The skin on his forearms pulled tight. The fox took a step. Then another. Its gait steadied fast.Charlie swallowed. His throat felt dry. His stomach twisted. The fox bared its teeth. A low sound came from its chest.Charlie’s knees bent without thought. He lowered his center. His muscles felt pa

Charlie moved uphill through thin trees and broken stone. Snow lay in patches where the sun did not reach. His boots slid on wet leaves, and he slowed his steps to keep quiet.The air was cold and thin. Wind pushed through the branches and made a low sound. Charlie stopped when he heard something else under it.A faint scrape came from the rocks ahead. It was slow and uneven. He tilted his head and listened again.The sound came again, sharper this time. A short breath followed it. Charlie shifted his weight and moved toward it.He stepped around a fallen log. Rusted metal showed between stones. A steel trap lay half-buried in dirt and ice.A fox lay beside it. One hind leg was caught inside the jaws. The steel was old and rough, stained dark.The fox pulled weakly at the trap. Its body shook with each movement. Its breathing was fast and shallow.Charlie froze. He stood ten steps away and did not move. The fox lifted its head. Its eyes were wide and dull. It bared its teeth and made

The room was dark except for the thin light from the ceiling crack. Dust hung in the air and moved when Charlie shifted his weight.He sat against the wall with his knees bent. His right hand pressed against his left forearm, where the skin was still red and wet.A faint sound ticked near his ear. It was not mechanical. It was flat and even, like a heartbeat with no body.The air in front of him blurred. A pale rectangle formed, sharp at the edges.Charlie froze. His fingers tightened on his sleeve. The rectangle stayed still. White text appeared inside it.[System Interface Unlocked]The words did not flicker. They did not glow. They were simply there.Charlie leaned forward a few inches. His breath stayed slow, but his shoulders lifted. Another line appeared.[User Status: Stable]The ticking sound continued. Charlie turned his head, looking for a source. There was nothing on the walls. No device on the floor.The rectangle shifted to the left, matching his movement. Charlie stopped

Charlie hits the ground hard and does not pass out. His head strikes stone. His body twists. The air leaves his chest in a sharp burst. The pain comes all at once. It does not fade. It grows.His eyes try to close. They do not. A flat tone sounds near his ears. It is calm. It does not repeat. Light snaps on in front of his face.A red grid fills his vision. Lines cut across his body shape. Small boxes lock onto his limbs and chest.He tries to blink. The grid stays. Another tone sounds. Short. Sharp. Text appears, white on red. “LOSS OF CONSCIOUSNESS: DENIED.”His jaw tightens. His hands claw at the stone floor. The pain spikes again. Harder. Focused.His back arches. His breath breaks into short gasps. The grid zooms in. His ribs glow bright yellow, then red. A thin line traces one rib. It flashes. “STRUCTURAL MISALIGNMENT DETECTED.”His fingers scrape stone. They leave dark marks. He tried to scream. His mouth opens. No sound comes out. The pain shifts. It presses inward now. It fe