Before I can unlock it, a sudden burst of headlights floods the street.
The glare cuts across the pavement, bright enough that I throw an arm up to shield my eyes. The figure near the alleyrecoils instantly, stepping back, then farther, then disappearing around the corner like a frightened animal. Footsteps retreat behind me too—fast, scrambling, retreating into the dark.
The light holds steady, idling.
A car sits halfway down the block, engine running, headlights aimed at where I stood frozen seconds ago. The driver doesn’t roll down the window. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t call out.
After a moment, the lights shift away as the car pulls off, slow and unhurried, turning down the street until it fades into the night.
I stand there trembling, breath coming in uneven bursts. It happened too fast. I don’t know what almost happened. I don’t want to know.
I force my legs to move—quick steps, then faster, then as close to running as I can manage without falling apart. By the time I reach my building, my hands won’t stop shaking. I lock the door behind me and slide to the floor, heart hammering against my ribs.
Lucky. I was lucky. Someone happened to drive by at the right moment. That’s what I tell myself over and over until the shaking stops.
Chapter Six - Simon
The city is loud tonight—sirens somewhere far off, traffic weaving through the avenues below my windows—but from my office, the world feels muted, distant. Reinforced glass softens the noise to a faint hum. It should be calming. It isn’t.
I sit at my desk with the lights low, the room washed in the dim glow of a single lamp. The file in front of me is thick: photographs, coded transcripts, shipment logs, intercepted messages. All of it leads back to one name.
Rafael Cortez.
There are men in this world I dislike. Men I tolerate. Men I erase without thought.
And then there are men like Rafael—arrogant, sloppy, territorial in a way that reeks of insecurity. He started this war months ago when he tried forcing a shipment through my city without permission. A mistake, one I corrected swiftly. One of his men—the one he called a brother—died during the cleanup. Since then, the tension has been simmering, waiting for a spark.
The body in the alley three nights ago was a spark.
I flip through another page of the file, my pen tapping once against the desk. The dead man’s name was Hector Ruiz. Small-time courier for Rafael, but ambitious, reckless, and stupid enough to try expanding his routes through my blocks. He wasn’t worth sparing. He also wasn’t worth the trouble his death will stir.
I trace a red line on the map pinned to the wall. The cartel’s activity has been creeping closer—too close. Rafael thinks New York is vulnerable because it’s large. He forgets the city is mine down to the bricks.
I lean back, studying the network diagram sprawled across my desk. Arrows, names, locations, time stamps. Every piece is part of a puzzle Rafael doesn’t realize he’s losing.
One of his suppliers in Queens has been skimming product. A courier in Brooklyn is sleeping with the wrong woman. A lieutenant in Harlem owes money to a rival.
Three of his stash houses rotate guards every eight hours: predictable, sloppy, exploitable.
Weaknesses everywhere.
I begin marking the newest intel, fitting it into place like teeth in a gear. Every move Rafael makes ripples across the city in small, measurable ways. The shipments he reroutes. The calls he makes after midnight. The sudden silence from certain safe houses. He’s preparing a strike. I can feel it like pressure in the air before a storm.
He thinks he’s circling me.
He doesn’t understand I’ve been narrowing the noose around him for weeks.
I click the pen and make another note:Increase surveillance on 49th. Unknown driver seen twice. Possible scout.Then another:Cross-reference phone logs from last 24 hours.And another:Tail new runner operating near West End—possible Cortez recruit.
A knock sounds against the office door. Quiet. Respectful. I don’t look up.
“Come in.”
Viktor steps inside, holding a tablet already open to the latest report. He sets it beside the file. “Intercepted another communication. They’re moving product through the river docks again.”
“Which pier?”
“Nine.”
