Chapter 104 The Name That Shouldn’t Exist
The night air felt heavier. Thick with something unseen.
Ethan Watson’s muscles tensed, every instinct sharp as a blade. The name the informant had whispered still echoed in his head.
Beside him, Alea remained eerily still, her hands curled into fists. Luca’s fingers twitched near his concealed weapon.
The informant—his face barely visible under the dim streetlamp—watched them carefully. As if he knew the weight of what he had just revealed.
A beat of silence stretched too long.
Then Ethan’s voice cut through. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
“Say it again.”
The informant exhaled, rubbing his jaw. His smirk was gone now. “I already gave you more than I should have.”
Ethan stepped forward. Not rushed. Not aggressive. Calculated.
The man’s shoulders stiffened.
“Names hold power,” Ethan murmured. “And the wrong one? Can get you killed.”
The informant swallowed. For the first time, he looked uneasy.
Alea’s voice sliced in, sharp as glass. “If you’re already this deep, running won’t save you. So talk.”
The man exhaled through his nose. Then, barely above a whisper—
“Dominic Vale.”
The name settled between them like a loaded gun.
Ethan’s fingers curled at his sides.
Luca let out a low curse. “No way. That bastard’s supposed to be dead.”
The informant let out a dry chuckle. “That’s what he wants everyone to believe.”
Alea’s pulse pounded against her ribs. “You’re saying Richard Caldwell was working for a ghost?”
The man tilted his head. “I’m saying Richard was scared of him. And Richard wasn’t scared of anything.”
Ethan’s breath was slow. Measured. Cold rage laced his words.
“Where is he?”
The informant hesitated. Just for a second. But Ethan caught it.
Before the man could move, Ethan was on him.
A lightning-fast grip on his collar, yanking him forward, his breath cutting short in shock.
Ethan’s voice was pure ice. “I don’t like repeating myself.”
The man gritted his teeth. His hand twitched, reaching for something—
Luca was faster. The unmistakable click of a gun echoed in the alley.
“Don’t.” Luca’s voice was calm, steady. But the gun’s barrel against the man’s ribs said everything.
The informant froze.
Alea stepped closer, her tone deceptively soft. “Start talking, or start bleeding.”
His breathing turned uneven. His bravado cracked.
Then he muttered, “There’s an old dock. Southside. Pier 27.” His eyes flickered to Ethan’s. “If you really want to find Dominic Vale? Start there.”
Ethan held his gaze for a long moment.
Then, finally, he let go.
The informant stumbled back, sucking in a sharp breath. He glanced at Luca, then Alea.
“You didn’t get this from me.”
Then he turned and vanished into the night.
The moment he was gone, Luca exhaled and lowered his gun.
“Well, shit.”
Alea crossed her arms. “Dominic Vale. That name shouldn’t even exist.”
Ethan stared at the darkness where the informant had disappeared. His jaw was tight.
“Then let’s bring him into the light.”
The Hunt Begins
Pier 27 wasn’t exactly welcoming.
The air smelled of salt and rust, the scent of decay clinging to the abandoned dock. The only light came from a flickering streetlamp, its glow casting long, jagged shadows.
Ethan, Alea, and Luca moved in sync, their footsteps nearly silent.
Luca scanned the area. “If Vale’s still operating, he’s got eyes everywhere.”
Alea’s gaze swept the perimeter. “Then let’s make sure we’re watching him first.”
She pulled a small device from her pocket—a signal jammer. With a flick of her thumb, it activated, sending out interference waves.
Ethan raised a brow.
Alea smirked. “No cameras. No alarms.”
He gave a slow nod. “Good.”
They advanced.
Old shipping containers loomed on either side. A maze of rust and steel.
Then—a sound.
A soft scuff of a boot.
Ethan didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Alea’s wrist, yanking her back behind cover. Luca did the same, gun drawn.
The silence stretched.
Then—a shadow moved.
A tall figure stepped into view.
Not Dominic Vale.
But someone waiting for them.
An Unwelcome Guest
The man’s face was hidden under a hood, his stance too casual. Like he had been expecting them.
Ethan’s grip tightened.
The man chuckled. “You’re quicker than I expected, Watson.”
Alea’s voice was cold. “You were watching.”
He tilted his head. “Maybe.” His gaze shifted to Ethan. “Maybe someone wanted you here.”
Luca exhaled, muttering under his breath. “I’m really starting to hate this guy.”
Ethan’s patience was razor-thin. “Where is Vale?”
The man smirked. “Closer than you think.”
A beat of silence.
Then—the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.
Not from Luca.
Not from Ethan.
From behind them.
Alea stiffened. Shit.
They had walked straight into a trap.
Face to Face with the Devil
Ethan didn’t turn immediately. He felt the presence behind him.
A slow, methodical voice spoke.
“Well. If it isn’t Ethan Watson.”
This time, Ethan turned.
And there he was.
Dominic Vale.
Older than the last time anyone had seen him. But his eyes? Still sharp. Still ruthless.
Ethan’s chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. His expression didn’t waver.
Vale’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I was wondering when you’d come looking.”
Alea’s fingers twitched at her side. She was already calculating ways to get them out.
Vale’s gaze flicked to her. “And you brought company. Smart. But not smart enough.”
Luca’s gun was still drawn, but Vale didn’t flinch.
He stepped forward. “I was always one step ahead of Richard Caldwell. What makes you think you’re different?”
Ethan tilted his head. “Because I don’t make the same mistakes as dead men.”
Vale chuckled. “I like you.” His expression darkened. “Which is why I’ll give you a choice.”
Alea’s pulse hammered. She could already tell—this wouldn’t be a choice they liked.
Vale’s voice dropped lower. Deadly.
“Walk away now. Forget you ever heard my name.” His gaze locked onto Ethan’s. “Or step forward—and find out what real power looks like.”
Ethan held his ground. His voice, steady as ever.
“I don’t take orders from ghosts.”
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Vale’s face.
“Then let’s see how long you survive.”