Rain hammered against the high-rise windows like a warning knocking from the sky. Jolie Crane stood frozen in the middle of her bedroom, her phone still glowing on the floor where it had fallen.Her breath came too fast, too sharp. Every instinct in her body screamed this is impossible, but her bones knew the truth before her brain did.“Adrian…” she whispered. A shiver ran through her, slicing all the way to the spine. The door burst open.“Jolie?” Daniel rushed in, hair wild, shirt half-buttoned. “What happened? I heard.”She cut him off, voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.“Adrian called.”Daniel blinked. “What?”“He....” She swallowed hard. “He called. Just now.”Daniel stared at her for a long second… then he laughed. Actually laughed.“You’re shaken because of a prank call? Jolie, the man is dead.”Her head snapped toward him. “Do I look like I confuse criminals with prank callers?”Daniel lifted a hand defensively. “Okay, okay, just breathe. Maybe it was AI mimicr

The light swung on its wire, casting a slow, nauseating sway of shadows across the metal walls.Adrian’s gun stayed raised, but his heartbeat slipped, once, hard, as the face under the hood emerged fully into the glow. No. Impossible.The last time he’d seen that face, it was half-buried under rubble, glass, and blood. A night he spent seven years trying to erase.Yet here they sat , alive. Breathing. Smiling like a ghost that learned how to wear skin.“Hello, Antonio,” they said quietly. “Miss me?”Adrian’s jaw tightened. His voice came out low, dangerous.“You’re dead.” The figure lifted one eyebrow.“Apparently not.”Adrian stepped closer, gun pressed to the figure’s forehead. They didn’t flinch.“You died in the fire,” Adrian said, voice sharp. “I saw your body. I saw. ”“You saw what you were meant to see.”A calm smile flickered. “I wasn’t in that building.”Adrian’s breath hitched, but only for a moment.“Why are you here?” he demanded.The figure leaned back, crossing thei

The fog was so thick it looked alive. It coiled between the shipping crates, slithered across the wet asphalt, swallowed every streetlamp in a murky glow.The docks were always eerie at night, but tonight they felt intentional, as if the Syndicate had ordered the weather itself to collaborate. Adrian stepped onto the pier without hesitation.A silent silhouette in a black coat, moving like he already knew exactly where they wanted him. He did. Because he knew how they operated. Because he remembered their methods. Because tonight felt like déjà vu of the life he thought he had burned to ash.But mostly because he couldn’t ignore the faint, familiar heartbeat waiting ahead, one he’d learned to read like a second sense.Victor. Alive. Shaken. Drugged. But alive. Adrian’s steps didn’t speed up. They didn’t need to.If the Syndicate wanted him emotional, frantic, sloppy, they’d miscalculated. He walked as if he were the one who set this trap.Victor’s eyelashes fluttered. A low groan s