Ethan had never been one for warnings. In his line of work, danger was a constant companion, and fear had long since stopped being a deterrent. But when Lila mentioned Saville's name, it carried more weight than anything he had heard in years.
Victor Saville wasn't just dangerous—he was a shadow, a specter that loomed over entire industries, entire governments. The Black Angels were his tool, a finely crafted machine of global influence and power. If Langley had been involved with them, his death was more than just a murder. It was a message.
Ethan's mind kept returning to one question: Why? Why Langley? What was it about him that had made him a target? He was just another cog in the wheel. Or at least, that was how it appeared at first.
As he walked through the city streets, the usual buzz of nightlife seemed distant, muffled. The streetlights flickered like the last remnants of something fading. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him, waiting.
It wasn't until he reached his apartment that the weight of the situation truly hit him. The small, cramped space was usually a refuge, a place where he could think without interruption. But tonight, it felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on him. He needed answers, and he needed them fast.
Ethan's phone buzzed. The message was brief, with a single line that made his stomach tighten:
Meet me at the old docks. Midnight.
There was no name attached, but Ethan knew who it was. Lila had her own way of playing things, and it was clear she had her own reasons for being involved in this investigation. But what was her stake? What did she hope to gain from all of this?
Despite the nagging feeling in his chest, Ethan grabbed his jacket and left the apartment. The docks were on the outskirts of the city, a place where few people ventured after dark. A place where shadows gathered and the air smelled like salt and decay.
When he arrived, the docks were eerily quiet. The only sound was the soft lapping of the waves against the rotting wood of the piers. A low mist had begun to creep across the water, swallowing the ships and warehouses in its thick embrace. Ethan's boots echoed in the stillness as he made his way toward the meeting point, his breath rising in visible puffs in the cold night air.
Lila was already there, standing by one of the old cranes, her face illuminated by the flickering light of a distant streetlamp. Her eyes met his as he approached, and for the first time, he saw something in her that wasn't entirely guarded—something that almost resembled fear.
"You came," she said, her voice surprisingly soft for someone so accustomed to operating in the shadows. "I didn't think you would."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he surveyed the surroundings, instinctively scanning the shadows. There was something off about the place, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"Why here?" he asked, finally speaking.
Lila hesitated, her gaze shifting to the dark horizon. "It's a place no one would think to look. There's a lot of activity here that the city doesn't know about. And… this is where Langley's last dealings were. We need to know exactly what he was involved in."
Ethan's curiosity was piqued. "What kind of dealings?"
Lila's eyes flicked toward a nearby warehouse, its broken windows staring out like empty eyes. "There's a shipment that was supposed to be delivered before Langley died. I think it was meant for Saville, but the timing's off. It should have arrived days ago. That's why I'm here."
A chill ran down Ethan's spine. "A shipment? What was in it?"
Lila turned away slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know yet. But I have a contact who does. I needed you here to help me get the information."
Ethan didn't like where this was going. They were walking into the lion's den, and they didn't even have a clear idea of what they were hunting. But he was too far in now to back out. Besides, the nagging feeling in his gut—the one that had led him to dig deeper into Langley's death—wasn't going to quiet itself.
He nodded. "Let's go."
They made their way toward the warehouse, the mist thickening around them with every step. The air grew colder, and the smell of rust and decay seemed to saturate everything. As they approached the entrance, Lila motioned for Ethan to stay back. She approached the door cautiously, her eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement.
When she was sure the coast was clear, she gave a subtle nod, and they slipped inside. The interior was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of damp wood and old metal. Broken crates lay scattered across the floor, and in the far corner of the room, a large shipping container sat ominously, its doors slightly ajar.
Lila moved quickly toward the container, and Ethan followed, his instincts on high alert. Just as they reached it, there was a noise—a faint shuffle in the darkness. Ethan's hand instinctively went to his gun, but Lila was already a step ahead. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small device, which she used to disable the warehouse's lights. The room was plunged into darkness, and for a moment, everything was still.
Then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed from the far side of the room. Someone was coming.
Lila didn't hesitate. She grabbed Ethan's arm and pulled him toward a shadowed alcove, and they pressed themselves against the cold stone wall, barely breathing. The footsteps grew louder, and Ethan's mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening.
Who was here? And what did they want?
As the footsteps neared, Lila whispered, "Stay quiet. Don't move."
Ethan's eyes locked onto the dark outline of a figure approaching. The tension in the room was palpable, and for a brief moment, Ethan felt as though everything around him had come to a halt. He was no longer just investigating a suicide. He was on the edge of something much larger, much darker.
And whatever it was, he knew one thing for sure: he was in too deep to turn back now.