THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL HEIR

Chapter 5 – Smoke Without a Fire

By dawn, the smoke from the underground vault had reached the streets above. Firetrucks surrounded Goodman Tower, lights flashing red and white like a battlefield wound pulsing through the concrete.

Local authorities swarmed the area, trying to contain the damage unaware they were standing on top of a war.

Jeffrey watched it all from across the street, cloaked in a black hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low over his face, Camilla leaned on the bench beside him, pale, stitched, and still trembling from the adrenaline of the night before.

Victor hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes, he sat across from them, one eye swollen from the beating he took. Bandages covered one side of his jaw. His pistol was tucked under the long coat he wore like a second skin.

The city had no idea it was on the edge of collapse. Yet, Jeffrey broke the silence first. “Henry didn’t know it was a decoy. That bought us maybe twelve hours.”

Victor gave a dry, blood-flecked cough. “Should’ve let me shoot him when I had the chance.”

“He had fifty guards,” Camilla said. “You wouldn’t have made it past the second bullet.”

Victor grunted. “Still worth dreaming about.”

Jeffrey glanced back toward the tower, the smoke now rising like a dark halo above the city skyline.

“They’ll rebuild it. But they won’t find the real drive. That was the last move my father taught me, hide the truth in plain sight. Let them destroy what they think matters.”

Camilla stared at him. “And what do we do now?”

Jeffrey’s jaw clenched. “We go after the one person Henry never controlled.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Jeffrey pulled out an old phone, burner style, scratched and battered. He powered it on. One contact. No name. Just a single encrypted line. Camilla’s voice was tight. “Who are you calling?”

Jeffrey didn’t answer until the phone started to ring. “Someone worse than Henry Vance.”

A static voice answered. Coded. Disguised. “You were told never to use this number again.”

Jeffrey kept his voice level. “You were told never to betray my father.”

A pause.

Then the static voice replied, “The dead make strange demands.”

“I need to meet.”

“Impossible.”

“I’m holding Revenant.”

Silence Then “Midnight. The Glass Docks. Come alone.”

Click.

Camilla stared at him. “You’re not seriously going to meet one of them, are you?”

Victor groaned. “Tell me that wasn’t who I think it was.”

Jeffrey’s silence said it all, Camilla leaned in. “The Syndicate?”

“The High Circle,” Victor said grimly. “The ones who even the underworld fears.”

Camilla looked between them. “And you’re just going to walk into that meeting alone?”

Jeffrey stood. “No. I’m going to walk in like I already own them.”

Zane Goodman stood in front of a mirror, adjusting his tie with trembling fingers, He could still feel the ghost of Jeffrey’s grip on his wrist from the funeral.

He hated it, Hated the way his knees had buckled. Hated the fear in his own reflection. “You need to get your head together,” Eleanor said behind him, her voice cold and perfect.

Zane turned. “He’s back. We thought he was dead, and now he’s burning vaults and leaking ledgers!”

“Calm down,” she said, sipping tea like she was lounging in a Versailles salon.

“Do you even understand what’s happening?! If that drive gets out, we go down too.”

Eleanor didn’t blink. “We planned for this. Henry is already cleaning up the mess.”

“He’s failing!” Zane shouted. “Your private army just got outsmarted by one man with a thumb drive!”

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. “Jeffrey isn’t a man. He’s a legacy in armor. The only mistake your father ever made was teaching him how to survive.”

Zane slumped into a chair. “I’m not ready for this.”

“No,” she said. “But you will be. Or I’ll find someone who is.”

He looked up, startled, She set the teacup down with a soft click. “I won’t let a ghost take what I’ve spent my life building. Not even one with the Goodman name.”

Fog rolled over the water like smoke from some unseen war. Shipping containers towered in silent stacks, shadowy monoliths under the pale orange glow of security lights. Everything about this place whispered danger.

Jeffrey arrived alone, dressed in black, hands empty. The flash drive was hidden deep within his boot, beneath a lining of lead and steel. Even scanners wouldn’t find it. He waited.

At exactly 12:01 a.m., three black cars pulled into the clearing near the dock, From the center car, a woman stepped out, She wore a crimson coat that fell like blood to her ankles. Platinum blonde hair. Eyes like razors.

Jeffrey stiffened. “I thought it would be him,” he said.

The woman smiled. “He’s dead. I replaced him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You killed your own father?”

She didn’t answer, Only gestured for him to walk, They moved down the dock alone, the waves slapping gently against the pylons. “I know why you’re here,” she said. “Revenant. You want to burn it all.”

“No,” Jeffrey replied. “I want to control it.”

She laughed a cold, elegant sound. “You’re bolder than the rumors said.”

“I’m worse than the rumors,” he said.

She stopped walking. “You’ve got one chance, Goodman. Join us. Sit at the table your father rejected. Use Revenant the way it was meant to be used not for revenge, but for control.”

Jeffrey met her eyes. “And what would that make me?”

“A god,” she said. He didn’t speak, Then handed her a decoy flash drive, She plugged it into her phone, scanned it.

Her eyes lit up. “My offer stands.”

Jeffrey stepped closer. “Then consider this a preview.”

She looked confused, until her phone exploded in her hand, She screamed, stumbling backward. Jeffrey was already running, Gunfire erupted behind him. Bullets pinged off metal containers.

Victor’s voice crackled in his ear. “I see you! Go left, shipping container B9!”

Jeffrey dove through a narrow gap between crates as a sniper round missed his head by inches, Victor’s van skidded into the clearing, Camilla threw open the door. “MOVE!”

Jeffrey leapt inside as bullets shredded the air behind him, They peeled away into the fog, tires screaming. Inside the van, Camilla stared at him. “Please tell me you didn’t just start a war with the High Circle.”

Jeffrey held up the real flash drive, His eyes were cold fire. “No,” he said. “I just let them know I’m not afraid to burn everything down.”

Then his phone buzzed again, Another unknown number, This time, a video attachment. Jeffrey opened it. And froze. It was his father, Alive, In a hospital bed. Breathing through tubes. Voice raspy.

“Jeffrey… if you’re watching this… they failed to kill me, but they will come again… and the truth… the truth is not what you think.”

The screen cut to black, Jeffrey’s blood ran cold, Camilla whispered, “That was recorded today.”

Victor stared at him. “Your father’s alive?”

Jeffrey gripped the drive tighter, rage and shock surging like wildfire. “No,” he said softly. “He’s being kept alive.”