Anderson knew what he had to do.
But before that—before the inevitable—he had one card left to play.
Anthony.
Getting to him had become difficult lately. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Nine was practically untouchable, and Anthony wasn't far off. You didn't just find him. You had to be allowed in.
But Anderson had known Anthony for a long time.
A simple text. No bullshit. No asking nicely.
"I need to talk. Now. It's about Ren."
Then, he waited.
And waited.
When the response finally came, it was an address.
It wasn't a bar. It wasn't a club or some underground meeting spot.
It was a soup kitchen.
Anderson stood outside for a second, staring up at the faded sign above the entrance. People filtered in and out, heads low, shoulders hunched, plastic bags clutched tight in their hands. The scent of warm broth and stale bread drifted into the cold air.
This wasn't what he expected.
He stepped inside, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the room. Volunteers moved behind the counter, serving bowls of soup and plates of food to the long line of people waiting. The room had a tired kind of quiet.
And then he saw him.
Anthony.
Crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, ladling soup into a bowl like he'd been doing it for years. A small smile on his face as he handed it off to an old man who gave him a quiet thank you.
Anderson's stomach twisted.
It wasn't an act.
Anthony looked at home here.
Like he belonged.
For a second, Anderson almost turned around and left.
Then Anthony glanced up, spotted him, and that easy smile shifted into something else. Something knowing.
He wiped his hands on a towel and gestured with his chin. "C'mon. Let's talk."
They stepped outside into the alley behind the kitchen. The city hummed in the background, a dull contrast to the warmth they had just left behind.
Anderson lit a cigarette.
Anthony's smile disappeared, replaced by something colder. "I already told you to stop those."
Anderson exhaled, smoke curling between them. "And I already told you I don't give a fuck."
Anthony's expression softened—just slightly. "I don't want you to die before me, Andie." His voice was quiet. "I wouldn't be able to live with that."
Anderson huffed a laugh, ignoring him.
Then, just as fast, Anthony snatched the cigarette from his lips and flicked it to the ground.
"What did Ren say?"
Anderson clenched his jaw. "She threatened to kill my sister if I didn't 'align myself with her.'"
Anthony froze. Just for half a second.
Anderson caught it. Narrowed his eyes. "Not what you were expecting?"
Anthony let out a slow chuckle. "Not even close."
Anderson stepped closer. "I don't want to have to do what I normally do, Tone."
Anthony gave him a sideways look. "You want me to fix this for you?"
Anderson exhaled sharply. "She thinks I might play a factor in this little game you guys are playing."
Anthony studied him for a long moment.
"Mia's almost done with school," Anderson muttered. "After that, I'm done. No matter what Nine says."
Anthony shook his head. "You think he'd let you go? He practically sees you as a son. He was pretty hurt you didn't come last time."
Anderson's hands curled into fists. "I'm serious, Anthony."
"You've already done too much to leave now, Andie."
Anthony's voice was level. Unshaken.
"And even if you wanted to, you can't kill her. She's his assistant." His eyes darkened. "You heard what he did to the guy who killed Molly. I wish I was there."
Anderson's jaw clenched. "Me too."
Anthony held his gaze. "I don't care about your sister." His voice was quiet, firm. "I care about you. So if Ren tries anything—"
Anderson shoved him. "Fuck you."
Anthony just laughed. "See? That's your problem. You're not desperate enough yet."
Anderson turned to leave, but Anthony's voice stopped him.
"Don't take too long deciding, Anderson."
He paused.
Anthony took a slow sip of his coffee, watching him with lazy amusement. "Because Ren? She doesn't hesitate."
Anderson didn't reply.
He just walked away.
His left hand brushed against his pocket, fingers grazing the place where his pinky should have been whole.
A reminder.