The place wasn’t on any map.
An old building buried between two newer ones. Abandoned on the tax rolls. Structurally condemned.
Except it wasn’t.
Nathan had walked past it a dozen times.
It had always just… blended in. Like it didn’t want to be noticed.
Tonight, it opened for him.
The interior smelled like cold metal and paper.
The hallway was dim. A single red bulb lit the far end.
He didn’t pull his gun.
Didn’t announce himself.
He knew who had invited him. And he knew this was either a trap…
Or something far more dangerous.
Trust.
Eve waited at the end of the hall.
Not in disguise.
Not cloaked in shadow.
But not fully seen, either.
Just a woman — hoodie pulled up, combat boots laced tight, standing half-lit under a broken streetlamp.
Hair pinned back. Chin lifted. Calm. Controlled.
Nathan approached slowly, the chess queen in his coat pocket like a talisman.
“You’re not exactly subtle,” he said.
Her voice, even and low: “Subtlety’s for people who still think they can hide. I’m past that.”
He studied her.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
“This meeting doesn’t happen again,” she said. “No wires. No names. You ask three questions. Then you leave.”
He nodded once. “Understood.”
First question: “Why now?”
Her answer came without pause.
“Because the wolves are circling. Not just cops. Not just killers. Politicians. Tycoons. Ghosts in the system. They all want the same thing: control. And they think what we built is up for grabs.”
“We?” Nathan asked.
She didn’t correct him. Didn’t clarify.
Second question: “Why me?”
A breath. A pause.
“You’re the only one who looked past the noise. Who didn’t draw your gun the moment the shadows moved.”
He raised a brow. “That makes me dangerous?”
“It makes you inconvenient.”
Silence stretched between them — taut, careful.
Final question:
“What do you want?”
The woman stepped half into the light then, just enough for him to see the glint in her eyes.
“I want the liars to choke on their crowns. I want the ones who sell power like poison to know what it’s like to be hunted. I want to burn down the myth that order comes from the top.”
A beat. Then:
“And I want to live. Which means I need someone who hasn’t decided which side they’re on.”
Nathan looked at her for a long time.
Didn’t say yes.
Didn’t say no.
He just said, “Is that all?”
She vanished into the dark.
But he knew — the game had just changed.
Marco was at the safehouse, bleeding.
The wound wasn’t deep. A scratch from a panic job gone loud.
But it wasn’t the wound that bothered him. It was the look in the girl’s eyes before she ran.
Young. Barely sixteen. Strapped with product she probably didn’t even understand.
He could’ve stopped her.
He didn’t.
Vasha stitched him up.
“You’re getting soft,” she muttered, disinfecting.
Marco stared at the floor. “Maybe I was always soft.”
“Don’t mistake tired for soft,” Vasha replied. “You’ve been running on fumes since this started.”
Marco didn’t argue.
But when she left the room, he pulled the girl’s photo from his coat.
He circled her face. Slid it into a folder.
Another one to find. Another one to protect. Quietly.
Nathan stepped out of the building and into the cold air.
He didn’t look back. The door vanished behind him like it had never been there.
But his mind was on fire.
He’d seen her.
He’d heard her.
And now he was part of it — whether he liked it or not.
His phone buzzed. Harper.
He let it ring.
Then sent her a single text:
“I’m out.”
Back inside, Eve sat alone.
She touched the chess queen. Set it down on the table.
Then reached into a drawer and pulled out another piece — black this time.
The knight.
She set it beside the queen.
And waited.
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