The rain had returned by the time Sam stepped out of Ren's apartment, the steady drizzle hitting their face like a thousand tiny needles. The weight of what they'd just learned pressed down on them, each step more difficult than the last. Viktor Markov—the name seemed to follow Sam like a shadow, an invisible weight tugging at their every movement. They knew it wouldn't be long before they were on Markov's radar, just like Jack had been. And Sam wasn't sure if they were ready for what that would mean.
They stood for a moment in the rain, letting the cold soak through their clothes. The city, usually so alive, now felt suffocating, the streets too quiet, the shadows too deep. It was a world that Sam had never known, and they couldn't shake the feeling that they were no longer an observer in this life—they were a part of it now, whether they liked it or not.
Sam pulled out their phone, staring at the name they had saved in the contacts: "Viktor Markov." A name that once felt distant and almost mythical, but now, it was real. It had a face. It had a history. And soon, it would have Sam's name on its list of problems.
The screen lit up with a message from Ren: Be careful. The deeper we go, the more dangerous it becomes. I can't protect you if you go after Markov.
Sam stared at the message for a long moment before typing a quick reply: I don't have a choice. We need to know what happened to Jack.
It wasn't just about Jack anymore. It wasn't just about closure. There was a deeper, more urgent need to stop this—this web of lies, deceit, and death—from reaching anyone else. Sam couldn't let Viktor Markov continue his reign of fear. Not when they now knew what he was capable of.
The reply came almost immediately: Just don't do anything reckless. We need more information before we make any moves.
Sam shoved the phone back into their pocket and started walking, not sure where they were going but knowing they couldn't stay idle. The rain had begun to pour harder, and the streets were slick with water. They needed to think. They needed a plan.
The one thing that stood out from Ren's research was Jack's desperate attempts to break free from the clutches of Markov. But how had Jack even known how to get out? Where had he gone for help? Sam needed answers—and they were certain that somewhere in the maze of criminal activity Jack had been part of, there would be someone who knew more.
Sam's mind raced, but as they passed a narrow alleyway, they heard footsteps behind them. The hairs on the back of their neck stood up, their instincts telling them to turn around. But they didn't. Not yet.
The footsteps came closer, quickening. A figure emerged from the shadows—a man in a dark coat, his face partially obscured by the collar. Sam tensed, reaching for the small, concealed weapon in their jacket pocket—a precaution, a habit born from years of avoiding confrontation.
The man stopped just a few feet away, his voice smooth but with an underlying threat. "You're looking for answers, aren't you?"
Sam's heart skipped a beat. They didn't answer immediately. The rain soaked through their clothes, but it felt like the air had frozen around them. They didn't need to say a word. The man already knew too much.
"You're in over your head," the man continued, his eyes flicking around as if ensuring no one was listening. "I know what you're after. Jack's secrets… they're dangerous."
"Who are you?" Sam asked, their voice barely above a whisper.
"Someone who knows what happens when people like you go digging," he replied, stepping closer. "You should stop now, before you make things worse."
Sam kept their ground. "I'm not stopping. Not until I know what happened to Jack."
The man's eyes narrowed. "You think you're the first to try and find him? People have come before you, and they didn't end well. There are things you don't understand—things Jack didn't want you to know."
Sam's pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"
The man hesitated, glancing nervously around before lowering his voice. "Viktor Markov isn't just a criminal. He's part of something much bigger. And whatever Jack thought he was getting into, he was in over his head from the start. It's not just about money or power. It's about control. And once you're in… you don't get out."
Sam's mind raced, trying to process everything. "How do you know all this?"
The man smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I've been watching. People like Markov… they leave a trail. It's just a matter of finding the right pieces. And you, Sam, you're a piece in this game now. You keep going, you'll either end up like Jack… or worse."
Sam's hands clenched into fists, frustration mixing with fear. "I don't care what happens to me. I need to know what happened to him. Where do I find Markov?"
The man hesitated again, as if weighing the decision. Finally, he gave a subtle nod, then slipped a small envelope into Sam's hand. "You're looking for answers. This is a starting point." His eyes darkened. "But be warned, once you start down this road, there's no turning back."
Without waiting for a response, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.
Sam stood frozen for a moment, the envelope heavy in their hand. There was no turning back now.
Opening the envelope, Sam found a name and an address, written hastily in black ink. Lucia Vasilev - Warehouse 27, Dockside.
Lucia Vasilev. Another name they had never heard before.
Sam didn't hesitate. They knew what they had to do next.
The storm was far from over, and Sam was determined to weather it—no matter what the cost.