Smoke on His Hands

Time: 5:42 a.m. 

Location: Navarro Estate Gym 

Weather: Foggy, 68°F

The morning was mute, wrapped in fog like the city had secrets to hide.

Eli moved through the gym with surgical grace—barefoot, gloved, sweat beading along his spine. Each jab at the bag was precise, silent, intimate. Like he wasn't fighting an opponent, but the ghost of someone who'd once said his name like a curse.

Jayce leaned against the glass doorway, watching. He hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. His mind was full of broken memories and the strange calm that came from knowing someone else was haunted too.

The sound of flesh hitting leather echoed like gunshots.

"You always train like you’re about to go to war?" Jayce asked, stepping inside.

Eli didn’t pause. "I am."

"With who?"

Eli struck harder. "Memory."

Jayce walked closer. "You losing?"

Eli turned, face flushed, sweat dripping from his brow. "Not yet."

Jayce held his gaze for a beat too long.

Time: 6:12 a.m.

Mama Inez poured tea into two glass cups, her hands steady as always. She'd been up since four, humming prayers in Yoruba under her breath.

"You watching him too close," she told Jayce.

"I'm not watching him enough."

"That boy's hands ain't clean. Not just from your work, but from somethin' long before. He move like a priest who stopped prayin'."

Jayce said nothing.

"You think you can fix him?"

"No. I think he doesn’t want to be."

Mama Inez blew on her tea.

"Then why’s he still here?"

Jayce didn’t answer. Because the truth was too fragile. Too real.

Because he was, for the first time in a long time, terrified of someone walking away.

Time: 7:21 a.m.

Eli found the rooftop empty and golden with first light. The fog had lifted. The city breathed beneath him, unaware of the two wolves that watched it from above.

Jayce joined him minutes later.

"Warehouse 3's clean. But your supplier's still skimming."

"Handled," Eli said. "I planted evidence. They're gonna think each other flipped."

Jayce smirked. "You really don’t sleep."

"Sleep’s for the forgiven."

They stood in silence.

Jayce lit a cigar, watching the horizon. "You know what I hate most about silence?"

"Tell me."

"It remembers."

Eli turned toward him, eyes unreadable.

"What do you remember most?"

Jayce looked at him slowly. "The moment right before I pulled the trigger the first time. And the way I slept like a baby after."

Eli nodded. "Then you were already broken before the kill."

Jayce chuckled darkly. "You say that like you weren’t."

Eli smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Time: 9:48 a.m. 

Location: Safehouse Tunnel Entrance

The old tunnel was cold, walls damp, flickering with old bulbs. They walked side by side—Jayce with his gun drawn, Eli with a flashlight, unshaken.

"These tunnels go all the way to Auburn," Jayce said.

"You built this?"

"My father did. Used to run girls and gold through here back in the eighties. I just updated the maps."

Eli touched the wall. "Smells like fear and bad memory."

Jayce glanced at him. "You always this poetic, or just when you’re hiding pain?"

"Only when I trust the audience."

They stopped at a rusted vault door. Jayce opened it.

Inside was a cache—weapons, files, old tapes.

Jayce handed Eli a folder. "This is everyone who ever tried to cross me."

Eli flipped it open, scanned the faces.

"You're thorough."

"You're in it now too."

Eli closed the folder. "Good. I’ve been in worse."

Time: 11:03 a.m. 

Location: Back in the Study

Jayce stood with a pen in hand, staring at a map of Atlanta riddled with red marks.

Eli watched from the doorway. "You're planning something."

"Always."

"Revenge or preservation?"

"Does it matter?"

"Only if you plan on surviving either."

Jayce turned slowly. "You think I won’t?"

"I think you haven't decided if you want to."

Jayce crossed the room. Fast. Close.

"What about you? You still waiting for death to finish the job?"

Eli didn’t step back.

"No. Now I'm just waiting for it to make a mistake."

They stared.

The air between them thickened—not with fear, not with lust, but something stranger. Respect wrapped in barbed wire.

Jayce finally spoke. "You're not who I thought you were."

Eli answered, voice low. "Neither are you."