2025-02-07 00:35:38The air was cool, but dark clouds hung low, warning of a storm. The first raindrops hit the windshield, then came the downpour. Walker switched on the wipers, gripping the wheel as the road blurred beneath the hammering rain.
Nothing could ruin this day. He and his wife, Elizabeth, were finally heading to Paris for their honeymoon. “This is going to be the best day of my life,” Elizabeth said, reaching over to stroke his beard before pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Oh yeah?” he grinned, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ve never been to Paris,” she murmured, staring out the window with a dreamy smile. “Neither have I,” he admitted, glancing at her. “I can’t wait to see the Eiffel Tower. It’s so beautiful in pictures.” Walker raised an eyebrow. “Seen it with some ex-boyfriend?” She laughed, swatting his arm. “No! My friend from Romania went on a business trip and sent me pictures.” “Uh-huh,” he teased, reaching over to nudge her. “Bet he’s handsome.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re impossible.” Walker chuckled, his hand brushing her shoulder. “Keep your eyes on the road!” she scolded playfully. “You know I can’t resist—” Her laughter died. Her eyes widened. “Walker! The bridge—it’s broken!” His stomach dropped. He looked up—too late. The bridge ahead was gone. Only jagged remnants remained. He stomped the brakes. The tires screeched. The car spun, skidding across the slick road. For a heartbeat, they were weightless. Then— Impact. Metal crunched. The world turned upside down. Silence. Walker gasped awake, the sting in his leg sharp, but the pain in his chest sharper. He turned—Elizabeth. She was still. Her eyes closed. “Elizabeth?” His voice cracked. He struggled, shattered the window with his elbow, then crawled out and limped to her side. “Baby, wake up.” His trembling hands cupped her face, feeling for breath. She was alive—but barely. A bruise bloomed across her forehead. “Help! Someone help us!” Walker shouted into the empty night, but the rain swallowed his cries. He turned to the bridge, his stomach twisting. They had stopped mere feet from the edge. One more second… Desperation took over. He stumbled toward the riverbank, filled a bottle, and rushed back. Gently, he poured water over her face. “Come on, Lizzy, wake up. Please.” She stirred. A weak groan. His heart soared. “Elizabeth?” He held her close, relief flooding through him. Then—she coughed violently. Blood spewed from her mouth. Walker flinched. His pulse roared in his ears. “No, no, no,” he muttered, lowering her gently. He sprinted to the car, snatched her purse, found her handkerchief, and pressed it to her lips. Blood seeped through instantly. He pressed harder. It wouldn’t stop. Panic surged. His hands shook. His mind raced. Santander Maternity Hospital—2 kilometers away. Walker swallowed hard. Their flight was in thirty minutes. Instead, they were stranded in the cold rain, drowning in misfortune. With a grunt, he scooped Elizabeth into his arms. The rain drenched them both as he staggered forward. Every step felt heavier. His arms ached. His body screamed for rest, but he refused to stop. Elizabeth’s breathing slowed. Her skin turned cold. His chest tightened. “Honey, I won’t lose you,” he whispered, but she didn’t answer. His breath hitched. “What have I done?” Elizabeth’s beautiful eyes—the ones that once sparkled with laughter—were fading. “No. No, no, no—Elizabeth! Not now!” His voice broke, a raw cry against the storm. Walker had seen death before. He had faced worse situations. But never had he felt this helpless. Tears burned his eyes as he hoisted her up again, ignoring the pain slicing through his shoulder. The rain had stopped, but the cold still clung to him like a second skin. The road stretched ahead, empty, silent, suffocating. Then—something moved. A rustle in the bushes. Shadows shifting. Watching. Walker’s breath hitched. "Keep it together," he muttered, voice hoarse. Elizabeth’s head lolled against him, her lips tinged blue. “Say something, Lizzy. Anything,” he begged. “Don’t you dare leave me like this.” No response. His pulse pounded in his ears. Then—through the darkness, a flickering light. His heart leaped. Hope. Or something else?
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Meet me at the Cave
Walker stood by the cracked window, his silhouette half swallowed in the shadows of the room. The light outside was still, but his insides churned like a distant storm.“Svet…” he began, voice low but firm, “…I don’t want to involve you in what you don’t fully understand.”Svet leaned forward on the edge of the couch, hands clasped tightly. His expression had shifted from curious to cautious.Walker stepped away, slowly, almost like retreating. His boots made faint creaks on the wooden floor.“I’ve pulled others into this before,” Walker continued, eyes not meeting Svet’s, “and now… they blame me for everything.”His voice cracked slightly on that last word, as if regret was a bruise he hadn’t stopped pressing.He was about to say more—“involving” was halfway out of his mouth—when his phone buzzed in his palm. A sharp vibration.No name. Just a blank number.Walker stared at it for a beat too long.Then he answered.“Hello,” he said, slowly, cautiously.A silence. Then a voice. Famili
"I'll stay till you figure it out"
The clock ticked past midnight.Walker hadn’t moved far from the window. The lights inside were off. Only the pale glow of the fridge lit the room, casting long shadows across the kitchen floor.Outside, the night sat heavy. The air was thick. Quiet.Then headlights cut through the silence — low, cautious beams. A single car.Walker flinched. His fingers curled tighter around the pistol in his hand. Safety off. Just in case.The sedan crept to a stop across the street. Engine idled. No one stepped out immediately.He stood to the side of the window, one eye just barely peeking through the blinds.Svet.It looked like him. Slouched behind the wheel, shoulders hunched like always. His signature gray hoodie up over his buzz-cut head. No sudden movements.Walker watched for another full minute.Nothing. No second car. No shadows moving behind.Still, he waited.Another thirty seconds.Then he crossed the room silently, reached the door, and unlocked it — click. He kept it half-open, letti
Svet Arrives New York
Walker’s burner phone vibrated against the kitchen counter — a deep buzz that rattled the empty glass beside it.He turned slowly, eyes narrowing. His body stiffened, just slightly, like prey sensing a predator from miles away.The screen flashed: Unknown Caller.He hesitated. His thumb hovered. Then, a quiet sigh.He answered."Walker," a voice said — sharp, urgent, trembling at the edges. "Hello? Am I speaking to Walker?"Walker’s heartbeat skipped. The voice was familiar. Too familiar.He cleared his throat, dropped his tone, and added a rasp. “No. Who’s asking?”The line held its breath."You bastards," the voice snapped, fury laced beneath the words. "You kidnapped Walker, didn’t you? I swear to God — I’ll make sure all of you suffer. I’ll make your lives a living hell."Walker said nothing. He let the silence hang, his jaw clenched, eyes locked on the fridge door’s faint reflection.The voice cracked again, this time with disappointment and confusion. “If you're not Walker, then
Clash
Walker wasn’t in a rush. He moved with the ease of someone who’d done this before.The sun was soft against the hospital roof as he stepped out of the black cab across the street, a brown paper bag in one hand and his eyes doing what they always did—scanning.He’d parked two blocks away and walked the rest. Not out of habit—out of necessity.Private hospital. Minimal foot traffic. Neutral colors. A blue logo painted on a cream wall that looked like it hadn’t seen graffiti in twenty years. Classy. Quiet. Too quiet.He adjusted the paper bag in his grip, the warm sandwich scent from the deli still rising out. Not that he planned to eat. He just needed the visit to look normal.That was the game—make things look normal. Even when they weren’t.Before he crossed the street, he slowed. His left eye twitched.There. The guy across the florist van. Pretending to be on a phone call.Another one—bent at a vending machine too long.Something in the air shifted. Not loud. Just a scent. But Walke
Walker is found again
Dax stood still—frozen, like a man watching his own shadow stretch under a dying sun.His breath dragged out longer than usual. A pulse ticked under his jaw. Slowly, he lifted his wrist and glanced at the time—a black-faced Rolex Sea-Dweller, thick-strapped, gifted by Montoya himself during a silent night of blood and loyalty.The hands on the watch ticked without mercy.Time… slipping.Only twenty-two hours remained out of the thirty-six he’d been given. If Walker wasn’t caught before the clock bled out, Dax wouldn’t just lose his rank—he’d lose his head.And the Stone-Faced Man?That man didn’t make empty threats.Already, Dax had dispatched his crew across the boroughs—Brooklyn to Bronx, from the belly of Queens to the upper glass towers of Manhattan. His men were hunting, and their phones stayed hot. Walker or Riven—he didn’t care which one showed up first. One would lead to the other.He slid his tongue across dry lips and tried to swallow, but the air tasted metallic.The gangs
Left To Die
The warehouse reeked of silence.A heavy, moldy silence—thick like spoiled milk left too long in summer heat.In the center of the dim, rust-stained space stood a single metal pole, its base corroded into the cracked concrete floor.Wrapped around it, bound like an offering to some unseen god, was a girl.Anita.Her frame—once lively and laced in neon lights—now slumped. Her wrists bore deep red rings where the thin, silver chains had bitten into her flesh. Her ankles? Worse. Skin peeled in flaky strips. Swollen. Bruised. One foot twitched every few minutes, not from strength—no, that was long gone—but from involuntary nerves fighting hunger’s grip.Her black leather miniskirt was soiled. Her crop top clung to her skin like a second, sweat-drenched hide.She hadn’t eaten in days.Her hair, once slick and shining under the club's violet strobes, now hung in tangled mats, clumped with sweat, dust, and the dried scent of old urine.And the stench...Even rats stayed away.Three days ago,
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