Chapter 94 94

Chapter 94 Part 2-Chapter 11
~Sponsor~

The docks smelled like rust and old water, the kind that never really moved no matter how much the river pretended otherwise. The air carried a sour-metal bite that settled on the tongue and stayed there. I breathed it in anyway because grounding mattered more than comfort, and because stopping ordinary things made the extraordinary louder.

The sky hung low and gray, thick with winter humidity. Somewhere out over the river, a barge engine groaned, the sound rolling through the mist like a warning that didn’t know who it was meant for. Wind slipped under my collar, testing for weakness, and I resisted the urge to hunch against it.

Raines walked beside me, her steps quiet, shoulders squared beneath her jacket. She moved like someone who understood both cities and violence, not rushing, not hesitating. The faint scar at her temple caught the flat light as she turned her head, scanning stacked containers with practiced calm. Her hands stayed close, relaxed but ready. There was no wasted motion in her. Only intent.

“You’re drifting,” she noted, fingers brushing the grip at her side as she adjusted her holster.

“I’m listening,” I replied, my gaze fixed on the waterline where the river met concrete, where movement pretended at purpose.

She followed my line of sight. “For him?”

“For patterns,” I answered, though the lie tasted thin and brittle.

The river pressed against its boundaries, sluggish and watchful. It moved, but it didn’t feel alive. It felt patient. Like it knew time would eventually win. I hated how much it felt like waiting.

I’d been waiting since the tether went silent. Not for his return, but for my body to stop bracing for him. For the panic to stop dressing itself up as resolve. Every instinct I had wanted to reach, to demand proof he was still there, even knowing the reach itself would be a flare in the dark.

Raines stopped near a rusted bollard eaten down to a jagged stump. Crouching, her gloved fingers brushed over something faint on the concrete. “This wasn’t here last time,” she murmured.

I joined her, lowering myself carefully, the cold seeping through my jeans. “Show me.”

She angled her wrist so I could see the chalk lines beneath grime. Symbols, quick and imprecise. Old language, poorly handled. Whoever had drawn them knew what they were attempting, but not enough to respect the accuracy…that kind of mistake usually came from fear, not ignorance.

“Someone rushed this,” I said, leaning closer.

“Or didn’t expect to survive long enough to do it clean,” Raines replied, jaw tightening. “Sloppy work means desperation.”

“Because something changed,” I said quietly.

She rose slowly, her eyes sweeping the dock in a lazy arc that wasn’t lazy at all. “Because someone valuable went dark.”

The word lodged under my ribs like a hook and I swallowed around it. “Cyne.”

She didn’t soften it. “Yeah.”

We stood there longer than necessary, the silence heavy with unspoken calculation. A gull cried overhead, sharp and sudden. At the sound, my shoulders jerked before I could stop them, nerves stretched too thin.

Raines noticed…she always noticed. “You’re running on fumes,” she said quietly, not accusing. Just stating fact.

“I don’t get the luxury of rest,” I replied, though my limbs felt weighted, like gravity had quietly doubled.

Her mouth curved slightly, humor edged with concern. “Neither does he,” she said. “Which is why this worries me.”

I turned toward her, tension tightening behind my sternum. “Say it.”

“If they can’t feel him,” Raines said, voice low, “they’ll look for you.” Her gaze tracked the stacked containers, the blind corners, the places where men waited to be brave only when unseen. “You’re the remaining thread.”

I rested my hands on the cold railing, metal damp beneath my palms. “Let them.”

Her eyes sharpened. “That’s not bravado.”

“No,” I agreed, lifting my chin. “It’s positioning.”

She studied me for a beat, then nodded once, decision settling. “There’s a warehouse east of here. Off-ledger. It shows up in old manifests tied to the corridor, then disappears.”

“Then that’s where we go,” I said.

The city thinned as we moved, sound fading into a dull backdrop. Broken windows. Faded signs. A stray cat watched us from a pallet stack, tail twitching like it knew better than to approach. The further we went, the more the world felt peeled back to something older and less forgiving.

Raines matched my pace without crowding me. Not protective. Not tactical…just present. I found myself measuring my steps against hers, anchoring to the rhythm.

The warehouse loomed like a held breath, windows dark, walls streaked with rust. The padlock was newer than the building, which meant someone cared what was inside.

Raines examined it without touching. “No visible alarms,” she murmured. “Doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”

My pendant pulsed beneath my shirt, not heat but awareness, like something recognizing its own reflection. “They’ve been here,” I told her.

She nodded once and stepped aside as I tested the door. The metal resisted, then gave with a reluctant groan that echoed too loud in the quiet.

The air shifted the moment we stepped inside. It wasn’t just colder, it was heavier. Sweet and metallic beneath the warehouse stink, like incense burned over old blood. Dust hung in the dim light and every sound echoed twice, then died, swallowed by the space.

Raines moved ahead instinctively, body angling between me and the interior. Her weapon stayed low, her wrist steady. “Something’s wrong,” she murmured.

“They’ve been here,” I repeated, more certain now.

Symbols carved into concrete confirmed it. Circles within circles, lines connecting points that made sense only if you let your eyes blur. Transitional space. Ritual residue. Some markings were fresh enough to still hold intent, like fingerprints pressed too hard.

Raines crouched, careful not to cross the nearest line. “This is corridor work,” she said. “Not amateur.”

A sound echoed deeper in the building. The sound wasn’t footsteps, but rather the hush of breathing. The inhale was slow, controlled: close enough to matter.

Raines lifted her weapon, stance fluid. “Stay close,” she instructed.

“I’m not hiding,” I replied, taking a step anyway.

Her jaw tightened. “I know. Just don’t make it easier for them.”

From the shadows, a figure stumbled forward. Young, thin, and shaking hard enough her teeth clicked. Her hair was tangled like she’d been pulling at it for hours. Her eyes were too wide, the pupils blown, and her face was gray with exhaustion and fear. She looked like someone who had run out of exits.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

Raines lowered her weapon slightly, voice steady, grounding. “Didn’t mean to do what?”

The girl’s gaze locked on me like I was gravity itself. Fear and awe tangled in her expression until they were indistinguishable, and she breathed, “Wake you.”