Chapter Eleven: Dawn hadn’t yet broken, but the city was already stirring, mist curling around street lamps like ghostly fingers. Billy and Evelyn slipped through narrow alleys, the Luoshen secured in a reinforced case that hummed faintly with protective energy. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by anticipation, fear, and the knowledge that they were now in deeper waters than ever before.Billy’s mind was a storm. Every clue they had gathered from Liam’s recent heists pointed to someone far smarter, far more dangerous than the reckless man they had been chasing. Someone orchestrating events from the shadows, someone who could anticipate moves, manipulate outcomes, and leave destruction in their wake without ever revealing themselves.“We need information,” Billy murmured, his eyes scanning the dim, rain-slick streets. “Not hints. Not warnings. The source.”Evelyn’s hand gripped his arm. “We start with Liam. He’s careless, he leaves traces. He’ll lead us somewhere—or

Chapter Fourteen: The fog clung to the city like a living thing—heavy, deliberate, swallowing the night one breath at a time. It coiled around lampposts and drifted across the cracked pavement, muting the hum of distant engines. Billy crouched low behind a stack of rusted crates, breath steady but eyes alive with fire. Every sound felt amplified—the faraway honk of a car, the whisper of wind against metal, Evelyn’s heartbeat trembling close to his shoulder.“Are you sure this is the place?” Evelyn murmured, voice barely more than breath. Her fingers tightened on the silver case against her chest—the Luoshen case, the one so many had bled for.Billy’s jaw locked, eyes fixed on the warehouse ahead. “It has to be. The ledger trail ends here. If we’re wrong, we won’t get another chance.”The warehouse loomed in front of them like a sleeping beast. Its windows were black, save for the occasional flicker of movement inside—men pacing, shadows shifting. Liam’s crew. Efficient, quiet, unboth

CHAPTER SIXTHTEEN: The rain traced silver streaks down the glass, blurring the city into a smear of light and shadow. Billy stood by the window, his reflection a ghost superimposed over the skyline. He looked calm, but calm was a lie—underneath it was an ache that pulsed like a second heartbeat.The Luoshen sat in the corner of his office, its velvet cover still damp from the fog. Beside it lay the metallic box, its engravings glinting faintly in the lamplight. He hadn’t opened it again since that night. Not because he was afraid of what it held—but because he knew once he did, there would be no turning back.His phone buzzed sharply, vibrating against the table. Tyla.He let it ring twice before answering. “Billy here.”Her voice was soft, almost trembling. “I… I didn’t think you’d pick up.”“I almost didn’t,” he said flatly. “You don’t usually call without a reason.”There was a pause. Rain pattered harder against her silence. Then: “The company’s back on its feet. Whatever you did

Chapter Eighteen: The city didn’t sleep — it prowled. Every flicker of neon across rain-slick streets felt like a pulse. Every echo in the fog whispered something Billy couldn’t quite catch. He moved through it like a ghost who refused to rest, Evelyn a few steps behind, the Luoshen’s weight a constant reminder that the night still had debts to collect.“You think that man told us everything?” Evelyn’s voice cut through the quiet, low but edged with suspicion.Billy’s gaze swept the rooftops, his breath visible in the cold air. “No. He told us enough to keep us breathing. That’s all people like him ever do.”They moved through the alley’s maze until the scent of salt and rust told him they’d reached the docks. The water slapped against corroded steel, the tide restless beneath the ghostly light. A derelict warehouse stood ahead, its windows fractured, a single bulb swinging from the ceiling like a tired pendulum. Every sway made the shadows shift — alive, unpredictable.The hooded ma

CHAPTER NINETEEN:Dawn seeped into the city like a rumor—soft, persistent, unstoppable. The safehouse smelled of old coffee and paper; screens threw pale light across a table crowded with files. Billy set the Luoshen crate down as if it were a sleeping thing, and for a moment the room was completely silent. The carved lines that had meant nothing to a casual eye now felt like a ledger of deliberate choices. His father had left him a puzzle. Someone had rewritten the margins.Evelyn crouched beside him, tracing a line with a fingertip. “This portion isn’t original,” she said. “Four pieces added later. Someone tampered with the pattern after your father left it.”Twelve years. The number landed in Billy like a thrown stone. He remembered the game boards in his father’s study, the patient way his father had moved stones across the board as if teaching him to see cause before effect. “They expected me to miss it,” Billy said, throat tight. “They planned for my ignorance.”Tyla’s hand shoo