Adrian called at midnight. One ring, Two. Three. Nothing. He waited. Called again. Same thing. Victor wasn't picking up. Adrian set the phone down, the silence in the room suffocating him. He stared at the wall, the tick of the clock the only sound. Maybe that was the test. Maybe Victor wanted to see if he'd keep trying.
Third call. Midnight and seven minutes. Victor answered. No hello. Just breathing. "You're persistent," Victor said, his voice low and smooth. "Good."
Adrian said nothing, his grip on the phone tightening
"There's a cost," Victor continued, his words dripping with intention. "Information isn't free. You want answers about your father? You work for them."
Adrian's jaw tightened, a spark of determination igniting within him. "What kind of work?"
"Small things. Favors. Jobs." A pause, heavy with implication. "You'll start small."
Adrian thought about it, his mind racing. A job meant money. Money meant survival. And answers meant...
"I'll think about it," Adrian said, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Victor laughed low, the sound sending a shiver down Adrian's spine. "Don't think too long."
The line went dead, leaving Adrian staring at the phone in his hand.
Adrian didn't sleep. He lay on the bed, the dim light of the room casting shadows on the walls. The card was still in his pocket, a tangible reminder of Victor's offer. He pulled it out, turning it over in his fingers. Nothing on the back.
Victor wanted something. That was fine. Everyone wanted something. The question was: what was Adrian willing to pay?
He thought about his father, the hospital hallway, the way the man just... left. " No. Not left. Victor said, he wasn't a nobody." Adrian said quietly to himself
Adrian closed his eyes, the memory of his father's face etched in his mind. When he opened them, morning light was slipping through the blinds, casting a pale glow over the room. He made a decision.
He found Marcus in the back corner of the compound, his eyes sharp as ever. "Victor wants me to work for him," Adrian said, his voice low.
Marcus didn't blink, his expression unreadable. "Doing what?"
"Didn't say."
Marcus studied him, his gaze piercing. "You trust him?"
"No." Adrian's response was immediate.
"Then why are you here?" Marcus's voice was a whisper, a challenge.
Adrian met his gaze, his eyes burning with determination. "Because he knows something. About my father.
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, his eyes seeming to bore into Adrian's soul. He looked down at the pendant around his neck, the one he never took off. Then he nodded. "Take the job," Marcus said, his voice low. "But watch your back. Men like Victor don't give anything for free."
Adrian already knew.
"When do you meet him?" Marcus asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Tomorrow. He'll call."
Marcus leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Go early. Watch the place before he gets there. Know the exits. Know the faces."
Adrian nodded, a plan already forming in his mind. He'd already planned to.
The call came at noon, Victor's voice a low rumble on the other end. "Diner. North side of the city. Tomorrow. 8 PM. Don't be late."
Adrian didn't say yes. Didn't say no. Just listened.
Victor hung up, leaving Adrian staring at the phone. He looked at the address, committing it to memory. Then burned the paper, the ashes floating away on the wind.
The next day, Adrian arrived at 6 PM, the streets already dark. Two hours early. The diner sat on a corner, old brick and flickering sign, windows fogged from the inside.
Adrian circled the block twice, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Noticed the alley behind the building, wide enough for a car. Two exits from the diner front door and a side fire exit. Three security cameras. One above the register. One aimed at the front door. One dead lens cracked.
He counted cars, noted which ones had people sitting inside. A gray sedan with two men. They weren't eating. Just waiting.
Adrian kept walking, his hood up, blending into the shadows. He found a spot across the street, a bus stop bench. Sat down, pulled his hood up, looked like anyone else waiting for a ride.
He watched, the minutes ticking by. People came and went. The gray sedan didn't move. The men inside didn't get out.
At 7:30, Adrian stood, his movements fluid. Crossed the street, walked past the diner's front window. Glanced inside. Booths along the left wall. Counter on the right. Back corner booth empty.
He kept walking, circled to the alley. Checked the fire exit. Unlocked. Good.
At 7:50, he went inside, the diner smelling like old coffee and grease. A few people scattered at the counter, no one looking at him. Adrian took the back corner booth, back to the wall, eyes on the door. He ordered coffee, black, didn't drink it.
7:55. The gray sedan was still outside. 8:00 on the dot. The door opened. Victor walked in, alone. No suit this time. Dark jacket. Dark jeans. Scar on his left hand visible when he reached for the menu.
He slid into the booth across from Adrian, his eyes cold. "You're early," Victor said, his voice dripping with amusement.
"So are you," Adrian replied, his tone even.
Victor smiled, thin and cold. "I like that. Caution."
He signaled the waitress, ordered nothing, just sat there, watching Adrian. Adrian didn't blink.
"You called three times," Victor said, his voice low. "Most people stop after two."
"I'm not most people," Adrian replied, his eyes locked on Victor's.
"No. You're not." Victor reached into his jacket, pulled out a phone, small and cheap. Slid it across the table. "Take it."
Adrian looked at the phone, didn't touch it. "What's this for?"
"Communication. I call. You answer. Simple."
Adrian picked it up, felt the weight. Cheap plastic. No camera. No apps. Just calls and texts.
"Someone owes me money," Victor said, his eyes gleaming with interest. "His name is Cole. He runs a card game on the south side. He's late. Very late."
"How much?" Adrian asked, his voice even.
"Doesn't matter. What matters is he pays."
Adrian tucked the phone into his pocket, a plan already forming. "And if he doesn't?"
Victor's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Then you get creative."
Silence. Adrian leaned back, his eyes locked on Victor's. "You said I get a clue. After."
Victor nodded, his expression unreadable. "Collect the debt. Bring it back. Then we talk about your father."
"Where do I find Cole?" Adrian asked, his voice low.
Victor slid a folded piece of paper across the table, an address. "He plays every night. Starts at ten. Don't go in the front. He'll see you."
"How do you want me to handle it?" Adrian asked, his eyes scanning the paper.
Victor stood, buttoned his jacket, his eyes cold. "However you want. Just get the money."
He paused, his gaze piercing. "And Adrian? Don't disappoint me." Victor said.
He walked out, the door swinging shut behind him. Adrian sat there, coffee cold, untouched. He unfolded the paper, memorized the address. Then tore it into pieces.
The burner phone felt heavy in his pocket. He had a job to do.
Outside, the gray sedan was gone. Adrian walked home, didn't look back. But he was already planning.