Jamal had no idea where he was headed. All he knew was he had to jump on his Kawasaki bike and get far away from the chaos that just unfolded.

But as he rode, feeling the wind hit his body and the calming effect it had, he found the clarity he desperately needed. He realized he needed to go to Yaxley’s place.

Yaxley was a friend from childhood. Unlike Jamal, Yaxley wasn’t part of Mr. Smith’s syndicate. He worked with the Russians, who were Mr. Smith’s main rivals.

Only a few people in Jamal’s gang knew about this, including Tyrese. Most of the gang didn’t know that Jamal and Tyrese had sold Madness to Yaxley. Jamal hoped Yaxley would let him stay for a few days before he talked to Mr. Smith about Zakir Osman, the man he was after.

In his mind, Jamal wrestled with how he would explain everything to Yaxley. How to describe Zak as a monster—a demon who could shapeshift. How Zak could cover a hundred meters in just two seconds and was so fast and strong that he took on twenty men and almost wiped them out, leaving only himself. All these thoughts made Jamal realize he needed to sit down and think. He hoped Yaxley would understand.

About an hour and a half later, Jamal arrived at Yaxley’s home. Located in a borough just outside London, Yaxley lived in a simple three-bedroom terraced house. Jamal parked his bike on the street and knocked on the door. He waited for a few minutes, but no one answered. He stepped back to look at the house. All the lights were off. He glanced around the street. Most houses were dark, except for a streetlamp in the middle, leaving both sides shrouded in darkness.

Jamal saw a chance to pick the lock on the door. He took his tools out of his inner pocket, always ready because he'd been good at unlocking things since he was a kid. He fiddled with the lock until he heard a loud click. Hearing that click, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The main room was empty. There were sofas on each side and a coffee table in the middle, but nothing else. He went further into another living room, but that one was empty too. This time, Jamal pulled his small knife from his pocket. The creepy silence made him want to stay alert. This was unusual. Whenever he came to Yaxley’s place, it was always noisy and lively. It was the only house on the street that felt like someone actually lived there.

The kitchen and bathroom up ahead were both empty, and Yaxley rarely left the house at night, so he must be inside now. The only places left to check were the bedrooms upstairs.

As he started walking, Jamal's boots stepped on something squishy. He couldn't see what it was in the dark, so he turned up his phone's light to get a better look. He was shocked when he saw what he had stepped on. A piece of human flesh. It was pale on one side and bright red on the other.

As he moved his phone's light, more pieces of flesh came into view as he looked up the stairs. A voice in the back of his mind told him to drop everything and run. But his curiosity took over his fear, like it always did. His curiosity had given him chances in life that fear never could, and he hoped it would help him now.

He carefully stepped over the chairs, avoiding the flesh pieces, and tried to step softly on the stairs, balancing his weight to keep from making loud noises that could alert whoever was upstairs. Yes, Jamal was sure someone was in the bedroom, maybe not Yaxley.

When he reached the first bedroom, he heard voices. He didn't go all the way up but stood near the top of the stairs to listen to the conversation.

“This guy just wouldn’t die in the end,” a muffled voice said, sounding like it was coming through a mask.

“It’s your fault. You didn’t finish him off right.”

“Yeah, but at least he’s dead now. Whoever finds him will know we’re coming next. If you mess with Mr. Smith’s madness supply, we’ll tear you apart and leave your pieces around your home.”

His friend coughed. “You’re a twisted person, you know.”

The other guy smirked. “When you work for the craziest man in the country, you end up screwed. Anyway, Jamal was supposed to be here by now. Where the hell is he?”

Jamal covered his mouth; they were here for him. How did they know about Yaxley and the madness supply? So many questions raced through his mind that when he stepped down the stairs, he pushed too hard and it creaked loudly.

“What was that!” one of them shouted before the other ran out of the room. Jamal froze as he faced Yaxley’s killers. They wore thick silicone masks that hid their faces.

Jamal ran for the door right away, but the guys shouted after him. “Get him! Don’t let him escape.”

He almost tripped going down the L-shaped stairs but made it to the main room. As he moved from the second room to the front, one of the guys grabbed him and pulled him back. They were strong, and he couldn’t break free as he pressed down on his mouth to stop him from breathing. Jamal fought with everything he had, knowing that if it went on longer, he’d be dead in seconds.

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As the hand tried to block his air, Jamal reached for his lockpick tool. His vision blurred as his fingers barely held the picks. With all his strength, he jabbed one into the man’s torso, making him yelp and let go of Jamal for a moment. The other killer tried to grab Jamal, but his friend’s bulky frame got in the way as his friend clutched his torso, blood dripping down.

Not giving them a chance to come after him, Jamal dodged their attempts and jammed the lockpick into the second killer’s eye socket, stopping him as he fell to the ground in pain. He used the other lockpick to stab the bulky guy repeatedly, making him unable to move. Jamal used both hands to stop the blood from flowing from his torso and neck.

He ran out of the house, jumped on his Kawasaki, and sped away. He needed a new hiding spot. He didn’t know what happened, but Mr. Smith found out about his betrayal. He’d heard stories about what happens to traitors. For now, laying low was his only option. Approaching him directly about his son’s killer wasn’t possible—for now.

-------

Blake slammed the door and stormed toward me. He had called me to meet him in the parking lot next to our apartment buildings.

“Do you know what you just fucking did?”

I raised my hand. “Wait, check your phone first. What I sent you will explain everything.”

He laughed bitterly, pulling out his phone. “This better be fucking good, or you’re…”

He kept looking up and down at his phone, doing it three times. I felt my patience wearing thin. “Stop that, please. My neck is hurting more than yours.”

“Sonuvabitch,” he muttered before making a call. “I think you should come out now and see this.”

A man exited the car, carefully shutting the door unlike Blake. He walked confidently to join us. He had a balanced face with a sharp nose and jaw, and a buzz cut. He wore a short overcoat that ended at his waist and neatly pressed trousers. If I had to describe him in one word, it would be: important.

“So, he’s the guy who let Zakir Osman escape,” the man said, staring into my eyes. They were cold and unfeeling.

I felt like I wanted to rip this guy's eyes out. I hated the way he was talking, but Bagley stopped me.

“Take it easy, Zak. You can handle him, but killing him? That's a hard move. He looks like a pro killer.”

“You can see how strong someone is just by looking into their eyes,” I thought to Bagley.

He smiled, appearing next to me, but they couldn’t see him. “After killing so many, you learn to read someone's strength.”

“I didn't let him escape. He knocked me out. There's not much I can do if he's got me down.”

“I haven't decided what you can or can't do,” the man said as he moved closer. He was trying to make me accept that he was in charge. But I refused. I stepped forward and met his gaze.

“Hold on, guys,” Blake said, “We’re all on the same side.” He squeezed between us to make room and then faced the other guy. “Look at this, Gale.”

“Ah, so he's Gale. Mr. Smith’s right-hand man,” Bagley said, sizing him up. “He doesn't seem that strong.”

I smiled at that, which annoyed Gale as he approached me. But Blake pushed him back. “Calm down, and stop it. You're not out of the woods after messing up the situation. But this... this will reduce your punishment.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Punishment? You never mentioned punishment. I gave you solid facts that Tyrese was working with the Russians, supplying them with Mr. Smith’s Madness. You should be thanking me for taking him out.”

They looked at each other and then laughed. “Don, I knew you were a hot-headed idiot, but I didn’t think you were this naive. You messed up a mission given directly by Mr. Smith, Execute Zakir Osman. You failed, then you go and kill Tyrese and his whole gang without telling us what was going on. Honestly, this parking lot was going to be your grave.” He held up the evidence on the phone and waved it. “But this here? Saved you from certain death. You should be thanking us for letting you live.”

“And there's one more way to keep thanking us for letting you live, Don. You and Blake will oversee finding out how much Madness Tyrese stole, and if there are others in the Syndicate doing the same.”

Anger built up inside me. “What makes you think I’ll work for you? What makes you think I’ll agree with anything you say?”

Gale looked at me. This time Blake stepped back and Gale came very close. He stared me in the eye. “If you don’t do what I say, your little birdie that you keep locked up in that apartment is going to end up in a really bad way. I’ll make her suffer more than you can. Her screams will be louder when I deal with her than you are.”

Anger bubbled up inside. I could kill Gale right here, it would be easy. But then I'd be in even more trouble. I want Mr. Smith to forget about Zakir Osman. That was another reason I showed Blake the proof of Tyrese’s betrayal.

If I somehow told Mr. Smith that his business was being hit by traitors, it would shift attention away from me to someone else, giving me time to escape.

But it seems like I just dug my own grave, digging deeper and deeper.

“Fine, I’ll do what you say. But after this, we're done. I'm done.”

Gale smirked. “If you do this, I’ll personally kick you out with all your limbs intact and your girlfriend alive.”

I watched the two men get back in the car and drive away. I relaxed my clenched fist, which made my hands white, and breathed in the cold October air.

“Well, well, Zak. Looks like you got yourself into some serious trouble.”

“There’s a saying on Earth: it’s easy to get into the world of crime, but hard to leave it.”

Bagley cracked a devilish smile. “Why would you ever want to leave when you have a steady supply of fresh souls?”

I smiled back at him and looked up at the full moon lighting up the night.