Chapter 36 Chapter 36: Blood and Clues
Chapter 36 Chapter 36: Blood and Clues
POV: Detective Harlan
I stepped carefully over what was left of a man’s torso, my boot making a sickening wet sound as it landed in a pool of half-dried blood. The underground bunker reeked of death — thick copper, shit, piss, and something metallic that clung to the back of my throat. My flashlight beam swept across the concrete walls, catching on deep gouges that looked like they’d been carved by industrial machinery. Four parallel claw marks, each one easily the width of three fingers.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed.
The place was a slaughterhouse. Bodies — or pieces of them — were scattered everywhere. One man had been ripped clean in half at the waist. His upper body hung from a broken overhead pipe, arms dangling, face frozen in a scream. Ten feet away, his lower half lay in a twisted heap, legs bent at unnatural angles. Blood painted the walls in long arcs and sprayed patterns that told the story of pure panic.
I moved deeper, nodding at a couple of uniformed officers who were taking photos. One of them, a young guy no older than twenty-five, had his hand pressed over his mouth. His eyes were wide, glistening.
“You okay, kid?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly. “I’ve seen car accidents. Gang shootings. But this… this ain’t right, Detective.”
“No,” I said quietly. “It isn’t.”
I crouched beside a shredded body near the main hallway. Massive paw prints pressed into the blood, bigger than any wolf or dog I’d ever seen. The claw marks on the floor were deep enough to catch my gloved fingers. I traced one slowly, feeling the rough edges. Whatever did this wasn’t natural.
My phone started vibrating in my pocket. I stood up, wiping my gloves on my coat before answering.
“Harlan.”
Captain Reeves’ voice came through, clipped and impatient. “Give me an update. The mayor’s office is already calling. Press is circling like vultures outside.”
I looked around the carnage again, jaw tight. “Captain, I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. I’ve seen some fucked up things in this city. But this?” I paused, swallowing hard. “This is something else. Bodies torn apart. Not stabbed. Not shot. Ripped in half by hand — or claws. Walls covered in gouges. Paw prints the size of dinner plates. This doesn’t look human. This looks like something out of a horror movie… This is terror.”
Reeves was quiet for a long moment. I could hear him breathing.
“Alright,” he finally said. “Gather everything. Photos, samples, prints, the works. Document every inch of that place. And keep your mouth shut. No leaks. No statements to the press until we know what the hell we’re dealing with. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
I hung up and shoved the phone back into my pocket. Two more officers walked past carrying evidence markers, their faces pale. I kept moving, deeper into the bunker, retracing steps the first responders had already cleared. The air grew colder the farther back I went. My flashlight beam bounced off steel doors and reinforced walls.
I pushed open the door to one of the smaller holding rooms. This one looked different. Cleaner. Like someone important had been kept here. A metal bed was bolted to the floor. I swept the light underneath it slowly.
Something glinted in the shadows.
I got down on one knee, the blood on the floor soaking into my pant leg. Reaching under the bed frame, my fingers closed around cold, heavy metal. I pulled it out carefully.
A Rolex Submariner, pristine despite the chaos. Still ticking perfectly. I turned it over in my gloved hand. The engraving on the back was small but expensive-looking.
“Well, well…” I muttered, a slow smile creeping across my face. “You forgot this, didn’t you, you rich bastard?”
I glanced toward the open doorway. No one was watching. I slipped the watch into the inside pocket of my coat, patting it once to make sure it was secure. My heart beat a little harder. This was the first real break I’d had in weeks.
Two hours later, I sat in the back booth of a quiet coffee shop on the edge of the industrial district. The place smelled like burnt beans and rain. I had two black coffees on the table when Ruiz finally walked in, shaking water from his jacket.
He slid into the seat across from me, eyes scanning the room nervously.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, reaching for his cup.
“Worse. I saw what was left of twenty men.” I pushed the coffee closer to him. “Drink. You’re gonna need it.”
Ruiz took a long sip, then leaned forward. “So what was so important you dragged me out here instead of just texting?”
I checked the entrance once more, then reached into my coat and placed the Rolex on the table, keeping my hand over most of it.
Ruiz’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. Is that real?”
“Rolex Submariner. Found it hidden under the bed in one of the holding rooms. Belonged to one of the bastards who turned that bunker into a meat grinder.”
Ruiz rubbed his face with both hands. “Harlan… this is evidence. Chain of custody. If anyone finds out we took this—”
“Proper channels won’t get us shit,” I cut him off, voice low. “You know how it works. This watch gets logged, some high-priced lawyer makes it disappear by tomorrow morning. I want real answers. And I want them.”
Ruiz stared at the watch like it was poisoned. “What do you want me to do?”
“There’s only one authorized Rolex dealer in the entire city. Go there. Be discreet. Flash the badge if you have to, but don’t make waves. Get the buyer records. Serial number is on the back. I need names, addresses, purchase dates — everything.”
Ruiz let out a long breath and shook his head. “This is crazy, man. We could both lose our badges over this.”
I leaned in closer, eyes locked on his. “Maybe. But something big is happening in this city. Something that isn’t human. And it all circles back to Marcus Valerius Kane. I can feel it in my gut. This watch might be the key that finally cracks him open.”
Ruiz was quiet for a while, staring at the gleaming watch. Finally, he gave a reluctant nod.
“Fine. I’ll handle the dealer. But if this blows up in our faces—”
“It won’t,” I said firmly. I picked up the watch and slipped it back into my pocket. “We do this smart. We stay quiet. And when the time comes, we take him down clean.”
Ruiz finished his coffee in one long gulp and stood up. “I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”
As he headed for the door, I called after him.
“Hey, Ruiz.”
He turned back.
“Any new movement on Valerius?”
My colleague hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing solid yet.”
I nodded, my jaw tightening. “Good. Because I’m close. Real close. I planted a new insider yesterday. Starts reporting tomorrow. If this watch gives us even one solid name…”
I tapped the pocket where the Rolex now sat.
“I’m finally going to nail that untouchable son of a bitch.”
Ruiz gave me a tight, uneasy smile and walked out into the rain.
I stayed in the booth a little longer, staring at the empty coffee cup. The weight of the stolen watch pressed against my chest like a loaded gun.
This time, Marcus Valerius wouldn’t slip away.