Luck, I think, is for men who can afford to wait. I stand, feeling every eye in the Viper Pit on my back as I walk out, boots loud on the marble. Outside, the city hums with secrets, and I breathe deep, tasting rain, diesel, and the distant promise of blood.
The address comes in before I even reach my bike. I punch it into my GPS, memorizing the route. The drive out is rough, city lights fading to industry and the smell of the river growing thicker. Warehouses loom up from the dark, old brick and corrugated tin, windows painted black or broken out. My boots crunch on gravel as I step into the hollow belly of the place, flashlight sweeping the shadows.
The warehouse is empty, but not abandoned. I can smell bleach and chemicals, the sour stench of old fear.
Same old.
A folding table sits against one wall, stained with something dark. A cot with a ripped mattress, discarded food wrappers, a pair of panties, of all things lies, discarded near the chair.
Every breath in this place is a reminder of how close I am and how far away she still feels.
I check the corners, careful. There’s a trapdoor in the floor, open just a crack. My boots scuff against cold concrete as I drop into the darkness below.
The air down here is colder, thick with mildew. My flashlight beam dances across the walls, catching on a series of lines drawn in the dust.
In the far corner, someone has scrawled a message in the dirt.
find me. 420 P?—
The rest is a smear, wiped away or never finished. My chest tightens as I squat to snap a picture, the grit rough beneath my fingers. It’s her. I know it in my bones.
Cipher will know what to do with this. I pull out my phone, text him the photo and the address. “420 P—means something. Find every possibility.”
His answer is immediate.
Will do. No promises.
I stand, the dust coating my palms. My mind races through every possibility.
Pine, Park, Place.
Every intersection, every dead end I can think of runs through my head. I close my eyes for a second, listening to the warehouse settle, the drip of water through some broken pipe, the echo of the highway far above.
I should feel frustrated. Angry. Most men would throw a punch at the wall or let the rage ride them all the way back to the club.
But standing here in the dark, surrounded by the last evidence of Layla’s existence, I only feel one thing—a certainty deeper than anything I’ve ever known. I’m going to find her. I’m going to tear apart every inch of this city until I do.
She’s out there somewhere, waiting for me. And next time I won’t be too late.
I climb back out, and pause at the top to look back. She was here. I can feel it. Those fuckers had her shoved down here where fresh air and sunlight couldn’t reach her. When I get a gun in my hand and a Vulture in front of me, I’ll be happy to return the favor and send them to hell where they will never know the light of another day.
The bike roars to life beneath me, the vibration steady, the sound familiar. The ride back is a blur of red taillights and the distant gleam of the city. I keep one thought in my head the entire ride…
Hang on, Layla. I’m coming.
3
BEAST
April.
I’m standing in another empty warehouse, and the only thing welcoming me is the lingering tendrils of my failure to save Layla.
The warehouse is a tomb of broken glass and bitter shadows. The scent of mildew clings to concrete as if the rot can’t bear to let go. My boots echo in the empty space, dust swirling in the harsh stripes of moonlight filtering through a hole in the roof.
This is the fourth place in as many weeks that’s turned up empty. Cipher keeps feeding me possibilities—420 Pear, 420 Parker, 420 Pavilion—but each lead dries up as soon as I get there, like the city itself is hiding her from me. I stand in the center of the room, hands loose at my sides, the colors of my tattoos stark against pale skin, scars cutting through the ink like ghosts that never left. My cut weighs on my shoulders.
“Where are you, Layla?” I breathe into the dark, voice low and rough, and every word is an ache I can't describe. I’ve never felt this way for another soul on this planet.
