Chapter 5: The Last Call
The message came at 3:03 A.M.
Encrypted. Single-use key. No trace.
Victor stood in his apartment, eyes locked on the screen.
FROM: Unknown
SUBJECT: “Elias Rhys has broken protocol. Incoming.”
ATTACHED: Audio file — "last_call_1076.wav"
He played it.
> "Victor, I don’t know if you ever listen to these… but you were right.
They got to Dani. Burned her.
Subject Eleven is the key. The girl you saw—she's not just a survivor.
They’re using her to track something.
Or someone.
I found files—deep ones. You were in them. But you weren’t labeled.
Just…
'VICTOR: NOT TO BE APPROACHED.'
I’m going dark. If I make it out, I’ll find you.
If not…
Burn it all."
Victor closed the file.
He didn’t need to trace it.
Because two hours later, they found Elias’s car in the river.
Engine still running.
No body.
Only his badge left on the dashboard—cracked in half, and folded into a single page.
Victor read it once. Then fed it to the fire.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
The last thread of the law was gone.
But the city didn’t sleep.
And neither did its shadows.
---
The next night, the club was humming—low lights, sharper suits, and secrets that danced between lips like smoke.
Victor wasn’t there for business.
He was watching.
His contact said someone new had been asking about “the Cleaner.” Not cops. Not mafia. Just… a woman. Alone. Smart. Asking all the right questions, too many of them.
And then—
He saw her.
At the far end of the bar, dressed in black silk and confidence.
She wasn’t trying to blend in. She belonged.
Hair dark as dusk.
Eyes like the moment before a storm.
And a presence that made liars pause mid-sentence.
She looked at him.
Not like he was dangerous.
Like she was curious.
She walked over. Smooth. Measured.
“Is the seat taken?” she asked.
Victor nodded once.
She sat.
“I hear you clean things.”
Victor didn’t answer.
“You’re quieter than I expected.”
Still silence.
She smiled faintly. “That’s okay. I like puzzles.”
Victor finally spoke. “Name?”
“Call me Selene.”
A pause.
She tilted her head. “That’s not my real name, of course. But you already knew that.”
Victor’s fingers twitched under the table. Not fear. Calculation.
She wasn’t just a woman sniffing around.
She was trained. Controlled. Dangerous.
But not here to kill.
That’s what made her interesting.
“You were looking for Elias,” he said.
Her smile faded. “I was looking for what he found. Before they erased him.”
“Why?”
Selene leaned in. “Because they tried to erase me, too.”
She slid a flash drive across the table. No label.
Just one scratch on its surface: XI — Eleven in Roman numerals.
“I don’t want your protection,” she said.
“I want your partnership.”
Victor stared at the drive.
And, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel alone in the dark.
---
He took the drive.
She took the second glass of whiskey.
And they didn’t speak again that night.
Because something unspoken had already begun.
The war had drawn its first queen.
And Victor—
Victor never played chess.
He flipped the board.
