Ghosts from the Past
Cade leaned back in the chair, jaw tightening as Jordan's words sank in.
Set up.
It explained everything—the ambush, Langston's smug smile, the tactical team waiting for him. This had never been about a contract. Someone had put him in that scope knowing he wouldn't walk away.
Jordan studied his expression, eyes sharp. "So, Mercer, what's the play? Because if you're thinking of knocking on Langston's door for answers, you're already a dead man."
Cade exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. "I need to retrace my steps. Someone got to Cole before I did, which means they knew about the job before I even took it." He tapped the table. "That means the leak is somewhere in my pipeline."
Jordan scoffed. "You mean the lovely collection of lowlifes and backstabbers you do business with?"
Cade smirked. "One of them's reliable."
Jordan rolled her eyes but clicked through her laptop. "Alright, let's start with Cole's last known movements. If he was compromised, maybe we can figure out when it happened."
She pulled up security feeds from the warehouse district where his body had been found. Cade leaned in as the grainy footage loaded. The timestamp read two days ago, 11:47 PM.
A black SUV rolled into the frame. A man—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a long coat—stepped out.
Jordan clicked to zoom, but the image was too blurry for details. "That's Cole," she muttered.
A second figure emerged from the SUV. This one was leaner, moving with a predator's grace. The two men exchanged words, though there was no audio.
Then, without warning, the second figure raised a gun.
One shot.
Cole crumpled to the ground.
Cade clenched his fists. "Pause it."
Jordan froze the frame just as the killer turned away. The security feed wasn't great, but the angle caught part of his face—a sharp jawline, the hint of a scar along his cheek.
Cade's blood ran cold.
He knew that scar.
Jordan noticed his reaction. "You recognize him."
Cade's voice was low. "Yeah."
Jordan narrowed her eyes. "Who is he?"
Cade exhaled sharply. "A problem."
An Hour Later – A Warehouse on the City's South Side
The rain had started again, slicking the pavement outside the abandoned warehouse. Cade crouched behind a rusted-out sedan, watching the building.
Inside, a dozen men moved—security, by the looks of them. Not standard street muscle, either. These guys were professionals.
Jordan's voice crackled in his earpiece. "Tell me you're not about to charge in there alone."
Cade adjusted the earpiece and whispered, "Relax. I'm scouting."
Jordan snorted. "Yeah, and I'm a nun. Who's the guy you recognized?"
Cade hesitated. He hadn't told her yet, mostly because he barely believed it himself.
Finally, he muttered, "Ethan Cross."
Silence.
Then Jordan swore. "No. Freaking. Way."
Cade didn't blame her for the reaction. Ethan Cross wasn't just some hitman—he was a legend in their world. A ghost. A man who shouldn't even be alive.
And, once upon a time, Cade's mentor.
Jordan's voice was quieter this time. "Mercer… if Cross is involved, this is bigger than a setup. You're in deep."
Cade's grip tightened around his gun. "Yeah. And I need to know why."
He moved toward the warehouse, slipping into the shadows. Time to get some answers.