Kairo didn’t stop running until his lungs felt like they were tearing apart.He burst out of the alley into a half-lit street where broken streetlights flickered like dying stars. He slowed only when his legs threatened to give out, ducking behind an abandoned delivery truck with rust eating through its sides.He bent forward, hands on his knees, rain dripping from his hood.“Think,”he whispered. “Think.”Blackgate never chased for no reason. Someone wanted him badly enough to spend money, manpower, and bullets. That meant whatever he’d taken, whatever he’d found, was worth blood. A voice cut through the rain.“You always run like that, or am I special?”Kairo spun, knife flashing into his hand. The girl from the rooftop stepped into view, hood still up, pistol lowered but ready. Her eyes moved constantly, left, right, behind him, like the city had trained her personally.“You followed me,”Kairo said. She shrugged. “You didn’t exactly disappear.”“You should’ve.”“Probably.”She til

Bishop Knox didn’t celebrate the handshake. That was the first warning. He released Kairo’s hand as if the moment meant nothing, then turned away, already moving toward the back of the pawnshop. “Lock up,”Bishop said casually. One of his men slid the bolt into place. The sound echoed louder than it should have. Lena crossed her arms. “That was fast.”Bishop glanced at her. “Opportunities don’t wait for permission.”Kairo stayed seated, forcing his breathing to stay even. His leg burned, but he ignored it. Pain was background noise now. “You said I choose my targets,”Kairo said. “I did,”Bishop replied. “That doesn’t mean you choose the timing.”He opened a door behind the counter, revealing a narrow office with a single desk and a glowing tablet. “Come,”Bishop said. Kairo stood and followed. Lena hesitated, then came too. Inside the office, Bishop tapped the tablet. A face appeared on the screen, grainy, zoomed in from a street camera. A man in his thirties. Clean jacket. Nervous e

Sirens didn’t mean danger anymore. They meant attention. Kairo learned that as he stood in the back room of the pawnshop, staring at the peeling wall while Lena paced like a caged animal.“You’re officially on the radar,”she said. “And not the kind you can duck.”Kairo leaned against the counter. “They don’t know my name.”“They don’t need it,”Lena shot back. “They have a shape. A limp. A location.”Bishop entered quietly, coat dry despite the rain outside. “The police have questions,”Bishop said.Kairo looked up. “For me?”“For everyone,”Bishop replied calmly. “That’s how pressure works. You squeeze the circle and see what leaks.”Lena scoffed. “And what if he leaks?”Bishop smiled faintly. “Then we find out how valuable he really is.”Kairo met Bishop’s eyes. “Rafe isn’t dead.”“Yet,”Bishop said. “But he’s talking. Or will be.”Silence stretched. Bishop tapped the counter once. “Which means we accelerate.”Detective Mara Quinn hated pawnshops. Too many lies packed into too litt

The smell of smoke clung to Kairo’s clothes long after the flames were gone. They stood across the street from what used to be the pawnshop. Blackened brick. Twisted metal. A crowd held back by yellow tape and quiet curiosity.Lena hadn’t spoken in ten minutes. Kairo hadn’t breathed properly in longer. Detective Mara Quinn moved through the wreckage with practiced detachment, eyes sharp, notebook already half full.She stopped in front of them. “You knew the owner,”she said. Kairo nodded once. “He was family.”Mara studied his face. “Then I’m sorry.”He believed her. That made it worse. “We think it was arson,”she continued. “Targeted. Fast. Professional.”Lena’s voice cracked. “You think?”Mara glanced at her. “Someone wanted to send a message.”Kairo met the detective’s gaze. “Message received.”Mara hesitated. “If you know something,”“I don’t,”Kairo said evenly. She nodded slowly. “You will.”She turned back to the wreckage. Lena exhaled shakily. “She knows.”“Yes,” Kairo said.

The place Bishop chose was deliberate. An old courthouse downtown, condemned, gutted, forgotten by the city but still standing like a warning. Marble floors cracked. Statues blindfolded and broken. Justice abandoned but not erased.Kairo arrived alone. That mattered. He stepped inside, footsteps echoing too loud, cane tapping once against stone before he forced himself to stop using it. Tonight, he would not limp. A voice drifted from the shadows.“You’re late.”Bishop Knox stepped into the light, immaculate as ever, hands clasped behind his back like a man inspecting property. “I wasn’t late,”Kairo replied. “You were early.”Bishop smiled faintly. “Still correcting people.”“Still owning them,” Kairo said.They stood ten feet apart. No weapons visible. That was the lie. “You cost me three safe houses,”Bishop said calmly. “And embarrassed me.”“You burned down my home,”Kairo replied. “And killed my family.”Bishop tilted his head. “Old Joe was collateral.”Kairo didn’t blink. “So w