BLOOD OWNS THIS CITY

The Friend Who Knew Too Much

Marcus didn't sleep that night.

He sat in the tiny room above Mrs. Chen's kitchen, the Project Serpent folder spread across his lap. Photographs. Transcripts. Bank records. Everything Viktor had collected over five years of covering his tracks.

And one photograph that made Marcus's blood run cold.

His father's face. Blurred but unmistakable. Same jawline. Same way of holding himself. A stranger who shared Marcus's blood and had sold his son's life for profit.

Marcus studied the photograph until dawn. Then he folded it and put it away.

He had work to do.

The restaurant was quiet when he came downstairs. Mrs. Chen was already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with practiced efficiency. She didn't look up.

"You have company," she said. "Back room."

Marcus tensed. His hand drifted toward the knife in his jacket.

"Friend," she added. "Not enemy."

He moved toward the back room cautiously. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, a man sat at a small table, nursing a cup of tea. He was young—late twenties—with calloused hands and a face that looked like it had been through a few wars of its own.

Darnell Hayes.

Marcus recognized him instantly. The maintenance worker from the condemned building. The one who'd shared his food when Marcus was starving. The one who'd never asked questions.

"You're hard to find," Darnell said. He didn't sound angry. Just tired.

Marcus stepped into the room and closed the door. "How did you find me?"

"Followed the trail of broken bodies." Darnell took a sip of tea. "You hurt two of Viktor's men last night. Word travels fast."

Marcus sat across from him. His leg was throbbing. He needed to rest, but there was no time.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Darnell set down the cup. "Because you're going to get yourself killed. And you're the only interesting thing that's happened in this neighborhood in five years."

Marcus stared at him. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting." Darnell leaned forward. "I know who you are. Or rather, I know what you were. The Ghost of the Eastern Front. They teach about you in certain circles. The man who could kill with his bare hands and make it look like an accident."

Marcus didn't react. His face was stone.

"I'm not here to stop you," Darnell continued. "I'm here to help."

"Why?"

Darnell's face hardened. "Because Viktor's men killed my brother. Two years ago. A debt that never got paid. You're going after him. I want to be there when he falls."

Marcus studied him. Darnell's hands were steady. His eyes didn't waver. He was telling the truth.

"I don't work with partners," Marcus said.

"I'm not asking to be your partner. I'm asking to be useful. I know the city. I know the streets. I know people who can help you disappear when you need to."

Marcus considered it. He'd been alone for five years. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. But Darnell had shared his food when Marcus had nothing. That counted for something.

"One condition," Marcus said. "You do exactly what I say. When I say it. No questions."

Darnell nodded. "Done."

Marcus pulled out the photograph of his father and slid it across the table. "Do you know this man?"

Darnell studied the image. His brow furrowed. "That's Simon Webb. The scientist who disappeared five years ago. He used to work for Viktor. Rumor is, he's still alive. Hiding somewhere in the city."

Marcus's heart hammered. "Where?"

"Nobody knows. But there are people who might." Darnell looked up. "The Black Lotus. Vivian Rourke's club. She knows everyone who's anyone in Veridian Bay. If Simon Webb is alive, she knows where."

The Black Lotus. Marcus had heard the name. Neutral ground. No blood spilled on the premises. A place where secrets were traded like currency.

"I need to get in," he said.

Darnell shook his head. "You can't just walk in. Vivian Rourke doesn't meet with strangers. You need an invitation. You need something she wants."

Marcus sat back. His mind was racing. He had the evidence. He had a lead. But he needed access. He needed credibility.

"Find me a way in," he said. "I don't care what it costs."

Darnell stood up. "I'll make some calls. But Marcus—"

"Don't call me that."

Darnell paused. "What should I call you?"

Marcus looked at the photograph of his father. The man who'd sold his soul. The man who'd sacrificed his son.

"Ghost," he said. "Call me Ghost."

Darnell nodded and walked out.

Marcus sat alone in the back room, the photograph burning a hole in his pocket. His father was alive. Hiding. Waiting.

And Marcus was coming for him.

*Should Marcus trust Darnell completely or keep him at arm's length?*