LOGINDamian POVThe invitation comes in a cream envelope with heavy paper and gold embossing, and my name is written in cursive so fancy I almost do not recognize it.I turn it over in my hands. No return address and no name. Just a date and a location and the word "black tie" at the bottom.Mark is sitting across from me in his office, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He watches me read it."Who sent it?" I ask."That is the question."I set the envelope on his desk. The cream paper looks out of place against the wood grain, surrounded by coffee cups and ash trays and stacks of paper held down by a knife."You do not know?""I have a guess." He taps ash into the tray. "The guest list is private. The host is anonymous. But people like Jerald do not stay in the shadows forever. Eventually, they want to be seen.""Jerald sent this?""I think someone who wants to impress Jerald sent this. Or someone who wants to put you in a room with him." Mark leans back in his chair. "Either way, i
Damian POVI stop counting at three in the morning. Start again at six. The numbers keep changing, not because the math is wrong, but because my focus was somewhere else. Caleb wears a hole in the floorboards from the kitchen to the window. Back and forth. I want to tell him to sit down, but my voice is stuck somewhere under the weight of what I have done to get this cash.One hundred and twelve thousand. The number sits in my chest like a stone.It's not enough yet.Caleb cannot sit still. He held his phone, thumb hovering over the screen like he expected it to explode. He looks at me but does not see me. I am not sure he sees anything anymore.His voice seeps through the wall between the room, very low and shaking. "I am trying. I told you I am trying."A pause. Jerald's voice on the other end, too muffled to understand."He is not telling me anything. He does not trust me anymore."Another pause. The quiet stretches between us. I can hear him breathing. He can hear me not breathin
Damian POVMark's information was short and detailed with a name, an address, and a time when the scarred man drinks alone.The bar is on the south side, tucked between a pawnshop and a laundromat. The sign is broken, the windows are dirty, and the music inside is loud enough to cover conversations. I arrive at nine, when the crowd is thin and the bartender is too bored to watch the door.I spot him in the back corner. A booth with a view of the entrance. A bottle of dark liquid in front of him. His scar catches the light every time he lifts his glass.I walk toward him and slide into the booth across from him.His eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Then they go flat."You are either brave or stupid," he says."Hmm… both." He looks around the bar. The few other customers are lost in their own drinks. The bartender is wiping the same glass he has been wiping for ten minutes."If Jerald finds out I am sitting with you...""He will not find out from me."He studies my face. His scar
Damian POVI wake up with my cheek pressed against the open pages of the notebook. The ink has smeared. The words "three days" are blurred, like they are trying to escape the page.I sit up slowly. My neck is stiff. My eyes burn. The clock on the wall says nine. I have been asleep for three hours. Maybe less.The buyer's words are still in my head. Your life is on the line. I press my palm against my chest where his finger had been. The skin does not hurt anymore. But I remember the pressure.I close the notebook and slide it into my jacket. Caleb is still asleep. He does not know about the buyer and also the three days I have left. I leave the apartment without waking him.The street is grey. The wind is cold. I stand at the walkway and light a cigarette. The flame shakes. I steady it with my other hand.Five hundred thousand dollars. I do not have it. I do not know anyone who has it.I think about the buyer's face. His grey hair. His cold eyes. The missing finger on his left hand. S
Damian POVThe phone rings at eight in the morning.I am sitting at the kitchen table with the notebook open in front of me. The pages are half full now. Names. Dates. Times. Things I know and things I suspect. Caleb is in the shower. The water runs through the wall, a steady sound that covers everything.I pick up the phone. The number is not saved."Yeah.""Damian Caldara."The voice is flat. No warmth. No threat. Just a statement of fact, like he is reading a name off a list."Who is this?""The man whose shipment you lost."I lean back in my chair. The wood creaks. The notebook stares up at me."I am aware.""Being aware does not return what I paid for.""I know.""And knowing does not fix it."I close the notebook and slide it into my jacket pocket. The weight presses against my chest."What do you want?""I want what is mine. Or I want my money back. Every dollar.""The money is gone.""Then find it."The water in the bathroom stops. Caleb will be out soon. I have minutes."I ne
Damian POVMy phone buzzes on the nightstand beside my bed at three in the morning.The sound cuts through the dark like a knife, sharp and insistent. I reach for it before the second buzz, my fingers fumbling across the wood surface. Beside me, Caleb shifts in his sleep but does not wake.Mark's name lights up the screen."Yeah.""Your shipment is gone."I sit up. The floor is cold beneath my bare feet. The room is dark except for the thin line of streetlight bleeding through the curtains. Caleb's breathing stays slow and even behind me."Which shipment?""The big one. The one we worked on, this was supposed to secure you for a greater cause."My chest tightens. "What do you mean, gone?""I mean, the truck never arrived. The driver is not answering his phone. The merchandise has vanished. "A pause. I hear him light a cigarette on the other end of the line. "Someone knew exactly when and where to hit."I close my eyes. The address I left on the counter. The address Caleb reported. The
Damian POVThe call comes on a Thursday afternoon, three days after Elena Vasquez left her card at the garage.I am in my apartment, cleaning the kitchen, when my phone buzzes with a number I do not recognize. The screen shows a local area code, nothing unusual, but something about the timing makes
Damian POVThe first stranger approaches me on a Tuesday.I am walking out of a coffee shop near the warehouse district, a paper cup warming my hands against the cold morning air. The street is busy with delivery trucks and workers heading to their jobs, and I am thinking about nothing more complic
Damian POVCaleb did not let go of me for a long time.His arms stay wrapped around my waist, his head pressed against my chest, his body warm and familiar in ways I have spent months trying to forget. I stand still, my hands hovering at my sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold him closer.
Damian POVThe figure lingers in my mind, a shadow imprinted on my vision whenever I close my eyes. I see him standing across the street, watching my window and when I open them, I expect to find him standing in my room. I could not sleep that night.But the morning comes without incident. The stre







