2025-11-22 09:35:42
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Ch. 34 — Testing the Ghost
Raf Marino had a rule:Never trust a man who rises too fast.And Adrian was rising like a blade thrown upward—clean, sharp, and terrifying.That night, the warehouse felt wrong the moment Adrian stepped inside.Dim lights. Empty crates. Silent corners. The heavy stink of oil and cold metal.His instincts prickled, a quiet static under his skin.Trap.He didn’t turn around. He didn’t speak.He simply walked deeper into the dark, letting whatever waited feel confident.Then the first killer stepped from behind a pillar.Tall. Lean. Dressed in matte black.A switchblade gleamed under the hanging bulbs.No words. No threats. Just the clean promise of violence.Adrian exhaled.His muscles loosened—too loosened, too fluid.That same eerie sensation washed over him, the one he had grown to fear:He knew exactly where the attack would come from before it began.The killer lunged, blade flashing low toward Adrian’s ribs.Adrian moved before the blade even sparked in the light.He tilted sidewa
CH. 33 — RECOGNITION IN THE STREETS
Rain fell like broken glass over the Old District—sharp, cold, relentless.Adrian walked through it with his hood up, head low, hands in his pockets. But no matter how much he tried to blend in, the city refused to ignore him.Whispers followed him like shadows.“That’s him.”“The Ghost.”“He sees you before you see him.”“Keep your eyes down, idiot.”Every corner.Every alley.Every crowded bar entrance.His name—his myth—had already outrun him.Adrian hated it.He didn’t want attention.He didn’t want power.He didn’t want people bowing their heads when he passed.He wanted answers.He wanted silence.He wanted to know why he felt like a loaded weapon someone forgot to put away.But the streets had made up their mind.He was already a problem—and growing into a threat.---It started at Marco’s Rusty Bar, a dim, rust-flaked place where criminals drank cheap whiskey and tried to forget their sins.Adrian pushed the door open.The noise stopped.Not lowered.Stopped.Every set of eyes
CH. 32 — NEW INSTINCTUAL GLITCHES
Adrian woke before dawn—his eyes snapping open a full second before his alarm went off.Not because of noise.Not because of a dream.But because something inside him whispered:“Someone is coming.”His apartment was silent.Still.Ordinary.But Adrian didn’t trust silence anymore.He rose from the mattress, barefoot, shirtless, every muscle wired, every nerve tuned to a frequency he didn’t understand. The shadows in his apartment felt alive. The air felt tight.Then—A knock at the door.Exactly when the whisper said it would come.Not a second early.Not a second late.Adrian stared at the door, heart slow and steady like a trained killer’s. He picked up a knife from the table, approached silently, pressed his back against the wall, and listened.Three breaths beyond the door.Male.Nervous.Armed.“Adrian Holt?” a voice asked.Not a cop. Not a gang member. The tone was too shaky.Adrian opened the door with one swift pull.The man outside jumped backward, hands raised.“I—I’m just
CH. 31 — THE NIGHT OF BROKEN TEETH
The alley smelled of wet rust and rotten food—one of those narrow, forgotten spaces where screams echoed but never reached the police. The kind of place where crimes weren’t just committed… they were expected.Adrian stood at the center of it, breath controlled, posture steady, muscles loose and ready. The voice behind him—the one that said “Found you.”—had disappeared into the shadows like smoke.But five figures stepped out instead.Five men.Gloves taped. Knives glinting. One carrying a steel pipe.Professional.Too professional.They didn’t shout.Didn’t threaten.Didn’t posture like street thugs.They simply moved.All at once.Like wolves.---The first attacker lunged low, trying to cut Adrian’s Achilles tendon. Another swung the steel pipe at his skull from the right. A third aimed for his ribs.It should’ve been too much for one man to react to.Should’ve been—But Adrian felt the attacks before they happened.That strange whisper in his nerves flared again—like a glimpse of
CH. 30 — THIRD JOB: STREET RETALIATION
~1,200+ words of raw action, tension, and twistsNight in Blackpoint always smelled like gasoline, damp concrete, and the kind of fear that made normal people double-lock their doors. But tonight, the streets felt tighter—like the entire district was holding its breath.A rival gang, the Northside Vipers, had stolen over eighty thousand dollars from Raf Marino’s collection route. They didn’t just take money—they humiliated him publicly.So Raf sent a message back.A message named Adrian Holt.---The job briefing had been insultingly simple:“Find the Vipers. Hurt them. Take everything back.”But Adrian walked toward the abandoned textile warehouse with a quiet, coiled intensity, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes scanning every shadow.Three months ago, he was a barely surviving pit fighter, dodging dirty blows and smelling of blood. Now he was something else—sharper, colder, more dangerous. Whatever had awakened inside him was growing stronger by the day.He felt it even now.A pull
CHAPTER 29 — SECOND JOB: GUARD DUTY GONE WRONG
The docks at night were a maze of shadows and quiet lies.Fog rolled across the cold water like a living thing, slithering between shipping containers and rusted cranes. The only sounds were the distant groans of metal and the soft lap of waves against concrete.Adrian stood with his back against a shipping crate, hood up, hands buried in his coat pockets. His breath came out in faint white clouds. The shipment had been delayed twice. The crew watching it had already left for drinks. Raf didn’t trust anyone but him to guard it overnight.Guard duty was supposed to be easy.Simple.Quiet.But Adrian’s instincts had been uneasy from the moment he stepped foot on the pier.Something wrong…Something too still.His hand tightened slightly around the knife concealed in his pocket. Not because he expected trouble—But because he felt it.Felt it the same way he felt punches before they landed.Felt it the same way he sensed danger a full second before anyone else noticed.Tonight, the whisp
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