Cold Elegance

CHAPTER 9 — WHEN GHOSTS BLEED

The engine growled as Ethan pushed the car past its comfort. Red lights blurred into streaks. The city bent around him, familiar roads turning sharp and narrow as he cut through traffic with ruthless precision.

He didn’t use sirens. Didn’t need them. Fear cleared paths faster than authority ever could. Jonas’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “Teams are five minutes out.”

“Too long,” Ethan replied.

“You’re not equipped for direct engagement.”

Ethan turned hard onto Maya’s street. “I’m equipped for inevitability.”

Silence followed. Jonas knew better than to argue now. Ethan parked three buildings down, engine still running.

He stepped out, jacket unzipped, movements unhurried. Anyone watching would mistake him for another late-night passerby. That mistake would cost them.

He crossed the street, eyes scanning reflections, windows, parked cars, puddles of old rain. The building loomed ahead, lights dark except for one apartment on the third floor. Maya’s.

The front door was ajar. Ethan didn’t rush. He slipped inside, letting the door close softly behind him. The stairwell smelled of dust and old paint. No voices. No footsteps.

He climbed. Each step was measured. Controlled. Third floor. The apartment door stood open. Inside, darkness. Ethan stopped just outside the threshold. Listened.

A faint sound drifted out. Breathing. Uneven. Not Maya’s. Ethan stepped inside. The living room was dim, lit only by the city glow seeping through the curtains.

Furniture displaced. A lamp shattered on the floor. Maya stood near the couch, frozen, eyes wide. A man loomed behind her, arm locked around her throat, a knife pressed lightly against her skin.

“Door,” the man said calmly. “Close it.”

Ethan did. The click echoed. The man’s voice was smooth. Practiced. “You’re earlier than expected.”

Ethan tilted his head slightly. “You’re later.”

The man chuckled. “Bold.”

Maya’s eyes darted to Ethan. Confusion. Fear. Recognition flickered, and died. “Who are you?” she whispered.

Ethan didn’t look at her. “You shouldn’t be here,” the man said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Ethan took a step forward. The knife pressed tighter. A thin line of red bloomed at Maya’s neck. “Another step,” the man warned, “and she bleeds.”

Ethan stopped. Not because of the threat. Because of the calculation. “You’re not here to kill her,” Ethan said evenly.

The man smiled. “You sound very sure.”

“You didn’t tape her mouth,” Ethan replied. “You didn’t break anything you couldn’t explain. You want leverage, not a body.”

The man laughed softly. “Smart.”

Maya trembled. “Let her go,” Ethan said.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because you already lost,” Ethan said.

The man raised a brow. “Did I?”

Ethan’s gaze flicked briefly, to the window. The man followed the glance instinctively. That was the mistake. Ethan moved.

The next second exploded into motion, Ethan lunged forward, grabbing the lamp base from the floor and hurling it toward the man’s face. The man twisted, knife flashing.

Maya screamed. The knife sliced air where Ethan’s throat had been. Ethan drove his shoulder into the man’s chest, slamming him into the wall. The knife clattered to the floor.

The man recovered fast, too fast. A fist slammed into Ethan’s ribs. Pain flared. They grappled, crashing into furniture, breath grunting, muscles straining.

The man was trained. Efficient. Dangerous. But so was Ethan. Ethan hooked the man’s arm, twisted, felt bone grind. The man hissed but didn’t scream. “Who sent you?” Ethan demanded.

The man laughed through clenched teeth. “Doesn’t matter.”

Ethan slammed him again. The man kicked free, staggered back, reached for a second blade hidden at his waist. Too slow.

Ethan grabbed the knife first. In one fluid motion, he drove it into the man’s thigh. The scream was sharp. Real. The man collapsed, clutching the wound.

Ethan stood over him, breathing steady. “Who,” Ethan repeated softly, “sent you?”

The man looked up at him, eyes wide, not with pain, but with realization. “…You,” he rasped. “You’re the ghost.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. “That’s not an answer.”

The man laughed weakly. “You think you’re the only one hunting? There are buyers everywhere. Lucas just opened the door.”

Ethan knelt, pressing the blade slightly deeper. “Names.”

The man shook his head. “You kill me, you lose the trail.”

Ethan considered that. Then he pulled the knife free. The man screamed again. Ethan stood. “Live,” he said. “Tell them you failed.”

He turned away. Behind him, the man groaned, clutching his leg, blood pooling beneath him. Ethan moved to Maya.

She stared at him like he wasn’t real. “Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You saved me,” she whispered.

Ethan didn’t answer. Sirens wailed in the distance. Jonas’s voice crackled. “We have visuals. Teams arriving.”

Ethan nodded once, though Jonas couldn’t see him. “Go,” Maya said suddenly. “Please. They’ll ask questions.”

Ethan met her eyes. “You already have answers,” he said.

Her breath caught. “Derick?”

The name hung between them. Ethan didn’t confirm it. Didn’t deny it. Footsteps thundered in the stairwell. Ethan stepped back, moving toward the window.

Maya reached out, grabbing his sleeve. “Why are you doing this?”

Ethan paused. “Because someone taught me,” he said softly, “what it costs to be underestimated.”

Then he was gone. By the time authorities secured the apartment, Ethan was already miles away.

Jonas waited in the shadows of a warehouse, arms crossed, expression grim. “You crossed a line,” Jonas said as Ethan approached.

Ethan shrugged off his jacket. “Lines move.”

“You were seen.”

“By the right people.”

Jonas exhaled. “You left him alive.”

“Yes.”

Jonas studied him. “You’re sending a message.”

Ethan nodded. “That I’m not hiding.”

Jonas shook his head. “You’re accelerating everything.”

Ethan met his gaze. “Good.”

Jonas hesitated. “Lucas is panicking.”

Ethan smiled faintly. “Then we’re on schedule.”

Jonas’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, swore. “What?” Ethan asked.

“Maya’s statement,” Jonas said. “She didn’t describe you.”

Ethan raised a brow. “She described a stranger,” Jonas continued. “But she asked a question.”

Ethan waited. “She asked if Derick Hale was still alive.”

Ethan looked out at the city lights. “He is,” Ethan said quietly.

Jonas nodded slowly. “And Ethan Black?”

Ethan turned back to him, eyes cold, resolved. “He’s just getting started.”

Somewhere across the city, Lucas stared at his phone, hands shaking. A message blinked onto his screen.

Unknown: You should have stayed quiet.

Lucas swallowed. Another message followed. ''Now everyone’s listening.''

Lucas dropped the phone. And in the silence that followed, he finally understood, The ghost wasn’t hunting anymore. He was declaring war.