Blank preferred to work at night.

    He stood in front of Edwards & Co, his breaths calm, quiet; a sense of ease that distilled him—made him so elusive that no matter the oddness of his presence or his ill-fitting suit, not a single soul turned an eye to him.

    He slowly looked left, then right, noting his surroundings, and when he was sure it was clear, he began to walk towards the building. He cut through the sidewalk unnoticed, a shadow in a sea of people.

    Through the tinted window front of Edwards & Co, Blank could see the employees rushing to and fro, dressed to perfection as they carried satchels of files or plans. Blank wasn't nearly as styled as them, but he would fit in well enough. Especially with a gun beneath his coat, no one would get in his way.

Blank stood up straighter, opened the doors to Edwards & Co, and walked inside.

———

Darkness cut through the police car as it drove, the insides lit only by the dashboard.

"Alright," said Detective Abe, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. "Keep your eyes open."

Amy sat in the passenger, Mark in the back. They leaned forward in their seats as they rolled up to Wilford's stolen mansion, the golden gates looming over them.

Stillness came about the car.

The moment the three of them saw the gates wide open, wrong bled in the air.

Abe's fingers tightened over the wheel, and he slowed to a stop, shutting the car off. The lights dropped, and the engine died, plunging them in quiet.

    Through the car window, and past the open gates, they could see it clearly. The black skid marks on the pavement, the open garage, the kicked-down doors... and the bullet shells that littered the driveway.

    Abe took a deep breath, and he undid his seatbelt, face a degree paler.

    "They've been ambushed," muttered Abe.

Amy nodded at the mess before them, steepling her hands on her lips. "I don't know as much about the mafia as you, Detective," she said, "but isn't something like this a message for..."

    "War," said Abe, staring at the mansion with dread. "Whoever did this, Nelson..." He shook his head. "They've declared war."

    Abe gestured his head, and he stepped out of the car. "C'mon..." he said gravely. "Let's scope the place out."

Amy exited the car, and Mark lingered, worrying, before doing the same. All he could think about now was Dark—the last time he saw him, dragged away in Warfstache's arms; to the aftermath of the car chase, when Mark stood in the middle of the mansion driveway they walked through now. The memory of it hissed around him, fresh like it was yesterday, and when he glanced around, he could still imagine the bodyguards that surrounded him, guns aimed right at him. And through the armed crowd, in one of the men's arms, he remembered Dark, his body limp and unconscious.

Panic raced through Mark's veins.

    "What if," said Mark, "what if Mr. Edwards was hurt?"

    Dread sank in his stomach, and he ran his hands over his face. Detective Abe kept walking forward, and Agent Nelson fell back a step, sending Mark a sympathetic glance. The bodyguard swallowed, and as his shoes crunched over bullet shells, he couldn't help but voice:

    "What if they killed Mr. Edwards?"

———

Dark laid on the cot, asleep.

    Even now, noted Wilford, the man didn't look in complete peace; the harsher angles and lines of his face had softened in sleep, of course, but there was still a faint crease in his brow. Always stressed, even when he was resting.

    To Wilford's side, Schneepelstein packed up his things, his tools rustling in his satchel. The mob boss vaguely acknowledged him.

    "Say," mumbled Wil. "How long will it take for him to heal?"

    Schneep glanced up and shut his bag. "I'd say a month, minimum," he said. "Ze cut was very deep, Mr. Varfstache. It could take even longer."

    Wilford's brows furrowed. "A month? But that's too—"

    "Recovery takes time," said Schneepelstein. "He needs rest. Lots of it. You can't be running around any longer."

    "We don't have the option to rest," said Wilford. "We were ambushed—"

    "I know you better than zat, Mr. Varfstache," said Schneepelstein. "You'll find a way."

    "Not when Celine's behind it."

    Schneep fished out a pill bottle from his satchel and handed it to Wilford.

    "Painkillers," he said. "Two pills every six hours." He opened the office door. "I need to see Mr. Edwards again soon to check on ze vound. Call me in two veeks, okay?"

    "No promises," grumbled Wilford.

    Schneep nodded, and he glanced at Dark, sleeping soundly on the cot. They had given him a light blanket to keep him warm, his chest rising and falling beneath the fabric.

    The doctor carefully glanced at Wilford.

    "Ve are not in zis world forever, you know," he said quietly, meeting the mafia boss' eyes. "He could have died today."

    Wilford huffed under his breath, and Schneep rose his brows.

    "I'm serious," said the doctor. "If you feel something for him, Mr. Varfstache, quit tip-toeing around it. It's not like you." He nodded towards Dark. "Trust me; whatever you two have, it's mutual. Just go for it already."

    The mob boss sighed with amusement and waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "I get it, Schneep."

    "One day," said Schneep, "it may be too late."

    Wilford stilled at that, and the doctor bowed his head.

    "Goodnight, Mr. Varfstache," he said. "I'll see you soon."

    And with that, he shut the door, leaving Wilford and Dark alone in the room.

———

"Mr. Edwards," said Blank, standing before the front desk. "I'm looking for his secretary."

    The man behind the desk didn't belong there. He wore all-black, stood tall and strong, and considered Blank with furrowed brows. A bodyguard, Blank noted, but not exactly. His eyes flicked down to the man's subtle nametag, which read 'Tyler.'

    "Okay," said Tyler, squinting through curly hair. "And who are you?"

    Blank's eyes slowly ran up Tyler's figure, studying every unspoken word beneath the angles of his figure. This was a man who trusted authority, rules, and security.

    Threatening Tyler would only make things worse, so instead of reaching for his gun, he dipped his hand into his inner coat pocket and flashed his wallet.

    "Detective Solus," said Blank, clear enough to disarm, to distract. The exchange was perfect—a flash of black leather, too fast for the bodyguard to discern, and Blank's voice, distracting him from the obvious lie. "FBI."

    Tyler wavered a moment, running his eyes over Blank's frame. Even as he paused, deep in thought, Blank knew that the man would allow him through eventually. It was all a matter of time.

    People and their patterns, always so predictable. Variables to his control.

    "She's on the fifty-third floor," said Tyler, motioning a hand towards the elevators far off. "I'll tell her you're on your way."

    Blank slid on a smile, a thing meant to ease Tyler.

"Thank you," he said.

He walked past rushing employees, into the elevators, and climbed up the endless flights to Mr. Edwards' secretary.

———

Abe, Amy, and Mark made their way into Wilford's mansion, guns at the ready.

    Their feet crunched over bullet shells, and as they walked, they encountered the whispers of chaos. Doors left open, blood spattering the walls. Here and there, the trio stepped over bodies and discarded guns.

    Abe grimaced to himself, rage bubbling up within him.

    Celine had given them this location, just for it to be wiped clean.

    Suspicions grew in the back of his head like wildfire, but he tried desperately to tame it, to keep from jumping to conclusions. That never worked well for him in the past—destroyed his reputation, even—and he wasn't about to let that happen again.

    Celine may be a criminal, but he couldn't be sure if she was the one behind this.

    Yet.

    After an hour, they nearly scoured the entire mansion. Abe dropped his gun, about to tell the other two that the place was a lost cause, when they heard a noise.

    The three of them whipped around, guns aimed, focus sharp.

    There was an open door at the end of the hall. Another noise. Like a gasp, or a cough.

    Energy charged the air.

    Mark's heart shot in his throat. Amy held her breath. Abe glanced over his shoulder and nodded at them.

    They creeped forward, guns leading, and Abe reached the door first, breathing carefully. He pointed his gun inside first, peered over, and whipped around.

    Empty.

    Another gasp, a cough, and his eyes flicked down, landing on a body in a pool of blood that was still breathing, still alive.

    Abe shoved his gun in his holster and rushed forward, kneeling beside the woman. She barely moved, fingers twitching, and when Abe hovered over her, her eyes slid onto his, full of pain.

    Mark and Amy stepped into the room, and when Mark saw who it was, he paled.

    "Madam—" he breathed. "Madam Dumont—"

    "She needs a hospital," said Abe, trying to find where the blood was coming from.

    "Should I call an ambulance?" said Amy.

    "No," said Abe. "No, there's no time." He stood up. "We have to take her there. Now."

    Mark didn't need to be told twice. He rushed to Deja's side, and he stared at Abe, eyes wide. Together, they knelt down and lifted Deja off the floor, blood coating their hands and dripping to the floor.

    Deja made a weak sound, gasping for air.

    "I'll get the car," said Amy.

    Abe nodded, and Amy rushed past them. She ran out of the mansion and jumped into the car, pulling it up to the front door. Abe and Mark sped out of the entrance minutes later, Deja's body growing limper in their arms.

    They put Deja in the back of the car. Mark sat in the back with her, Abe in the passenger, and Amy sped off and down the road, turning on the sirens. Red and blue lights pierced the city lights around them, and Amy chanted under her breath that they would get to the hospital in time.

    "You're alright, Dumont," said Mark the whole drive, a hand on Deja's shoulder. "You're gonna be alright."

———

The elevator doors slid open with a chime.

    Blank glanced at the number fifty-three illuminated on the elevator and stepped out, carefully glancing around. The floor opened up into a large penthouse, full of space and little furniture. From the glass walls, the entire city stretched around the building, glittering with lights.

    As the elevator slid shut behind Blank, he glanced down the hall, finding the office door that said secretary in bold, sleek letters. He walked towards it and knocked three times, the noise clear, succinct.

    Moments later, heels clicked, and the door swung open, revealing the sight of Mr. Edwards' secretary.

She was a tall woman, with piercing eyes and a sun-kissed face. A light-blue hijab covered her head, blending into the flowy, ivory fabrics of her uniform.

"Good evening," she said, opening the door wide as she stepped back. "Tyler told me you were coming but I didn't get your name."

Blank lingered a moment before stepping inside, and he glanced around the office, taking in the details. His eyes landed on the nameplate on her desk: Tali Abadi.

"I'll be quick," said Blank, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Who was Mr. Edwards close to?"

Tali shifted at the doorway, brows furrowing. "How is this supposed to help you find him?"

Blank glanced over his shoulder, and he met Tali's eyes. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her waver; pause for a moment to step back and rethink.

Tali glanced away. "He wasn't close to anybody," she said honestly.

Blank recalled the photos of Mr. Edwards online—and how there always, stowed away in the backdrop, was another man. His bodyguard, personal bodyguard, always in range to protect him.

"His bodyguard," said Blank.

"Oh, you're right," said Tali. "I mean, they were... close, but I wouldn't say like—"

"I just need a name."

Tali stopped mid-sentence. She fell quiet, considered Blank for a moment, and made the worst mistake in her life.

She gave him the right answer.

"It's Mark," she said, and satisfaction hissed on his skin. "Mark Fischbach."

...

A bit of a short chapter again, my apologies! I finished writing this chapter at 2 AM 💀 College has been getting very hectic again and finals are next week. I've been studying like crazy ahSDKJFKH

Anyway, tell me your thoughts!

Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful day/night! <3

Love, Vic xoxo