The precinct buzzed with subdued chaos, the faint hum of fax machines and phones ringing in the distance. Kane sat in the interrogation room, his shoulder hastily bandaged, blood staining the white gauze. His reflection in the one-way glass stared back at him: tired, disheveled, and haunted. Chen stood by the door, pacing in tight, frustrated circles.

“You almost died last night,” Chen said, breaking the silence. Her tone was sharp, anger masking the concern underneath. “And now we’ve got a dead witness, a masked shooter, and—oh, yeah—the damn ledger that still doesn’t exist.”

Kane didn’t respond. He was too busy replaying Angela Moore’s final moments. Her words had been frantic but purposeful. They’re everywhere. The ledger isn’t just a piece of paper—it’s a weapon.

“What do you think she meant?” Kane finally said, his voice low, distant.

Chen stopped pacing, her brow furrowed. “She wasn’t talking about the ledger itself. She was talking about whoever’s behind it. Angela knew something, Kane. Something big enough to fake her death and stay in hiding for years. And now she’s dead for it.”

“She said they’d kill everyone,” Kane muttered, his fingers drumming against the table. “Whoever they are, they’ve been operating in the shadows for a long time. And they’ll do anything to stay there.”

Chen crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “What about the shooter? The guy who killed her? Did you get a good look?”

Kane shook his head. “Just his eyes. Cold, calculated. He wasn’t there to send a message; he was there to clean up.”

Chen frowned. “A professional, then. That means someone with money and connections hired him. Someone who couldn’t risk Angela talking.”

Kane leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “The masked man said something before he disappeared. ‘You’re too dangerous to be left alive.’” He looked at Chen, his gaze hardening. “This isn’t just about Hawthorne’s empire. We’re targets now.”

As the first rays of dawn broke through the city, Kane and Chen sat in their shared office, combing through everything they had on the case. Photographs, reports, and transcripts were spread across the desk like a morbid collage of conspiracy and death.

Chen’s phone buzzed, and she answered it with a weary sigh. “Detective Chen.”

On the other end, a young officer’s voice crackled with urgency. “Ma’am, we’ve found something. Patrol caught an abandoned car down by the industrial district. Inside, there’s… well, you’re going to want to see it.”

Chen ended the call and turned to Kane. “Looks like our masked friend left us a gift.”

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Industrial District – Abandoned Car

The industrial district was a wasteland of rusted metal and broken dreams, the skeletons of factories looming against the gray sky. The car was parked haphazardly near an old warehouse, its black paint scratched and dull. Yellow police tape cordoned off the scene.

Inside the vehicle, Kane and Chen found a chilling tableau: a bloodstained glove on the passenger seat, a burner phone in the center console, and a sealed envelope on the dashboard. The phone had no contacts, no messages—just a single video saved to its memory.

Kane pressed play, and the grainy footage filled the screen.

The video showed Angela Moore, her face pale and frightened, sitting in a dimly lit room. “If you’re watching this, it means they’ve found me,” she said, her voice trembling. “The ledger—it’s not what you think. It’s not just numbers and names. It’s…” She hesitated, tears brimming in her eyes. “It’s a roadmap. To everything. Every crime, every cover-up, every death they’ve buried. And if you’re not careful, they’ll bury you too.”

The video cut off abruptly, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

Chen exhaled slowly. “A roadmap? To what?”

“To whoever’s really running this show,” Kane said, his mind already spinning. He turned his attention to the envelope, tearing it open carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper with coordinates scrawled in black ink. Beneath the coordinates were three words: “Follow the blood.”

The coordinates led them to an abandoned warehouse a few miles away. The structure was old, its brick walls covered in graffiti and ivy, its windows shattered like jagged teeth. Kane and Chen approached cautiously, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

Inside, the air was heavy with the stench of decay. Rows of dusty shelves lined the walls, but it was the center of the room that caught their attention. There, under a tarp, was a makeshift altar—candles burned down to stubs, photographs pinned to a corkboard, and a ledger sitting ominously at the center.

Kane approached slowly, his hand hovering over his gun. “This feels like a trap.”

Chen nodded, her eyes scanning the room. “Or a message.”

He reached for the ledger, flipping it open. The pages were filled with names, dates, and cryptic annotations. But as he turned to the last page, his stomach dropped.

There, scrawled in blood-red ink, was his own name. Detective Michael Kane.

Underneath it was a chilling note: You were always part of the plan.

Before Kane could process what he was seeing, the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. Chen spun around, her gun raised, but the shadows were alive with movement. Figures emerged—half a dozen men, all dressed in tactical gear, their faces obscured.

“Drop the ledger,” one of them commanded, his voice distorted through a modulator. “You’ve seen enough.”

Kane’s heart raced as he clutched the ledger tighter. “If you think I’m handing this over, you’re dead wrong.”

The man raised his weapon. “Then you’ll die with it.”

A deafening gunshot rang out, but it wasn’t from the intruders. The warehouse doors burst open, and floodlights poured in. SWAT officers stormed the building, their voices cutting through the chaos.

“Drop your weapons! Now!”

The tactical men scattered, disappearing into the shadows like ghosts. Kane and Chen hit the ground as bullets ricocheted off metal and concrete.

When the dust settled, the intruders were gone, leaving only silence—and the ledger—in their wake.

Kane sat up, clutching the ledger to his chest. His mind reeled with questions, but one thing was clear: Whoever they were, they didn’t just want the truth buried. They wanted him buried with it.

The sterile confines of the precinct conference room offered no comfort. The ledger, now sealed in an evidence bag, sat at the center of the table like a loaded gun. Kane and Chen flanked it, their faces pale with exhaustion. Across from them stood Captain Sylvia Graves, her piercing blue eyes locked on the pair. The tension in the room was suffocating.

“This is what all the bodies, the whispers, and the chaos have been about,” Graves said, nodding toward the evidence bag. “I don’t have to tell you this is bigger than anything we’ve handled before. But it also puts a target on every single one of us.”

“Captain, we don’t even know the half of it yet,” Kane said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. “Angela called it a roadmap. Whatever’s in here connects everything—the murders, the disappearances, Hawthorne’s empire. It’s the thread that could unravel it all.”

Graves leaned forward, her voice dropping. “That’s exactly why we’re not keeping it here. Chain of custody means nothing if we’re compromised. Until we know who we can trust, this ledger is going into deep storage—off-site, under guard.”

Chen crossed her arms, her frustration evident. “And what happens when the people behind this come knocking? They’re not playing by the rules, Captain. They’re cleaning house.”

Graves shot her a sharp look. “Which is why you two are going to disappear for a while. Low profile. Follow leads, but stay off the radar. I’ll handle the politics here.”

Kane opened his mouth to protest, but Graves raised a hand to silence him. “This isn’t a request, Detective. You’re too close to this, and that makes you dangerous—to them, to us, and to yourself.”

Later that night, Kane sat in his dimly lit apartment, nursing a whiskey as rain lashed against the windows. The events at the warehouse replayed in his mind—the cryptic note, the tactical team, the gunfire. You were always part of the plan. The words felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was a blocked number. He hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Detective Kane,” the voice on the other end rasped, distorted and unfamiliar. “You think the ledger will save you? It’s a death sentence.”

Kane’s grip on the phone tightened. “Who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is what you’re about to do next. Walk away. Burn the ledger. Forget the names. It’s the only way to survive.”

Kane’s jaw clenched. “You don’t scare me.”

The voice chuckled, low and menacing. “I don’t have to. They’ll do that for me.”

Before Kane could respond, the line went dead. He stared at the phone, his mind racing. Whoever had called knew about the ledger—and they knew about him. This wasn’t a warning; it was a promise.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

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The Safe House

By morning, Kane and Chen were relocated to a safe house on the outskirts of the city—a nondescript brick building surrounded by dense woods. Inside, it was spartan: a couch, a small kitchen, and a pair of bedrooms. The air was heavy with the scent of old wood and damp air.

Chen dropped her bag on the couch, glancing around. “Cozy,” she said dryly.

Kane ignored her, setting his laptop on the coffee table. “We’re not here for comfort. We’re here to work.”

She sat beside him, her expression softening. “You okay? Last night was… a lot.”

He didn’t look at her. “I’m fine.” But the tightness in his voice said otherwise.

Chen sighed, leaning back. “Look, I get it. This feels personal now. But we have to be smart about this. Whoever’s pulling the strings, they’re watching us. Waiting for us to slip up.”

Kane finally met her gaze. “That’s why we can’t wait. The longer we sit on this, the more they’ll bury. We need to get ahead of them.”

Hours passed as Kane and Chen pored over the ledger, its pages filled with coded entries, initials, and symbols. Names appeared sporadically, some crossed out, others circled. It was a web of criminal activity spanning years, but the connections were murky at best.

Then, Chen found it.

“Here,” she said, pointing to a page near the middle. “This symbol—it’s on multiple entries. And look at the dates. They match up with known unsolved murders in the city.”

Kane leaned in, his brow furrowed. “It’s a marker. For hits.”

Chen nodded. “And look at this name: L. Greystone. It’s listed as a ‘contractor.’”

Kane’s stomach churned. “Greystone… I’ve heard that name before.” He grabbed his phone and pulled up the precinct’s internal database, typing in the name. A mugshot appeared on the screen—a man in his late 40s, with a scar running down his left cheek. Leonard Greystone. Former military, dishonorably discharged. Now a suspected mercenary.

“He’s one of them,” Kane said. “Maybe even the one who killed Angela.”

Chen’s eyes narrowed. “Then we find him. And we find out who he’s working for.”

Night fell over the safe house, and a restless unease settled over Kane. He sat by the window, staring out at the woods, his gun resting on the table beside him. Something about the stillness felt wrong. Too quiet. Too perfect.

Then he saw it—a flicker of movement between the trees.

“Chen,” he called, his voice low but urgent. She appeared from the kitchen, her hand instinctively going to her holster.

“What is it?”

Before he could answer, the window shattered, a flashbang grenade landing in the center of the room. The explosion of light and sound sent both detectives sprawling to the floor, their ears ringing.

Through the haze, Kane saw them—black-clad figures storming the house, weapons drawn. They moved with military precision, their faces hidden behind masks.

Kane scrambled for his gun, firing blindly as one of the intruders advanced. Chen was beside him, her movements sharp and calculated, but they were outnumbered.

A voice boomed through the chaos, distorted but commanding. “Give us the ledger, and you live.”

Kane clutched the ledger to his chest, his mind racing. He glanced at Chen, who shook her head. Surrender wasn’t an option.

“Come and get it,” Kane growled, his voice defiant.

The intruders closed in, their weapons trained on him. And then, from outside, a single gunshot rang out—followed by another. The attackers hesitated, their formation breaking.

Through the shattered doorway stepped a figure, shrouded in shadow but unmistakably familiar. As they moved into the light, Kane’s blood ran cold.

It wasn’t Victor Hawthorne. It was someone who looked strikingly like him—a near-perfect replica. Same sharp features, same piercing eyes. The resemblance was uncanny, yet off just enough to make Kane’s stomach churn.

The man’s voice cut through the silence, chilling in its familiarity. “You didn’t think Victor was the only one, did you?”

Kane’s breath caught as the figure in the doorway stepped into the flickering light. The man—this replica of Victor Hawthorne—didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he studied the two detectives with a knowing gaze, his expression a mixture of smugness and challenge.

“You didn’t think Victor was the only one, did you?” The man’s voice was a low, cold drawl—every syllable laced with an unnerving familiarity.

Kane froze, his grip tightening on his gun, but he made no move to fire. The eerie resemblance was too much. The body in the morgue, the autopsy—he had seen Victor’s lifeless corpse with his own eyes. And yet, standing before him now was a man who looked like Victor in every possible way.

“Who the hell are you?” Kane’s voice was harsh, raw from the adrenaline surging through him.

The man’s lips curled into a smile, but there was something off about it—something unsettling. “I could tell you my name. But that’s not what you’re really asking, is it, Detective?”

Kane’s heart pounded in his chest as the realization hit: this wasn’t just a look-alike. There was a deeper, darker mystery here—one that connected him, Chen, and Victor in ways they had yet to uncover.

Chen’s voice cut through the tension. “You’re not Victor.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied the man in front of them. “So, who are you really?”

The man tilted his head, as though considering her question. “I’m the one who’s been pulling the strings. The one who’s been watching from the shadows. The one who’s going to make sure the ledger never sees the light of day.”

He took a step forward, and suddenly, the room seemed smaller, the air thick with impending violence. Kane’s instincts kicked in, but his body stayed frozen. He knew this was a trap, but it didn’t matter. This man was too dangerous to underestimate.

“I’m the new Victor,” the replica continued, his words hanging in the air like a cold omen.

Kane’s eyes flicked to Chen, who was just as confused, just as stunned. They had always known Victor was a puppet master, but they hadn’t realized how deep the web went. This... this was something else entirely.

“Victor’s dead,” Kane said, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I saw him. The autopsy. His body was on the slab.”

The replica smiled again, and this time, it wasn’t even remotely reassuring. “You saw what they wanted you to see. You were part of the plan all along, Detective. Just another pawn in a game you don’t understand.”

Kane’s thoughts raced, trying to process the impossible. Could the body in the morgue have been a decoy? Had someone orchestrated his death, making sure they controlled the narrative? This man before him—the new Victor—seemed to know more than he was letting on.

Chen, who had been watching intently, stepped forward, her voice trembling with the weight of realization. “Are you telling us that the real Victor is still alive?”

The new Victor’s smile deepened. “No. Not exactly. The real Victor died long ago—his empire, his legacy... it was never about one person.” He gestured to himself. “It was about the idea of Victor Hawthorne. About control. And that’s where you two come in.”

Kane’s mind reeled as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Before the new Victor could respond, the sound of footsteps outside the door grew louder. A team of masked men, their faces obscured, appeared in the doorway, weapons at the ready. The replica turned toward them. “Take the ledger,” he commanded, his tone sharp.

Kane’s pulse spiked. This wasn’t just a standoff anymore—it was a coordinated attack.

As the gunfire erupted, the replica didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled. Too late.

The masked men scattered, taking cover behind furniture, but the replica stood tall, seemingly unaffected by the violence unfolding around him. Kane’s heart raced as he realized that the man wasn’t just a replica of Victor—he was a master manipulator. Someone who had orchestrated every move, every turn, from the shadows.

In the chaos, Kane heard the sound of footsteps rushing toward them from the back of the house—more masked figures. They weren’t here for the ledger. They were here for them.

But before Kane could react, a shadow loomed over him. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He spun, instinctively pulling his gun—only to see Chen, standing behind him, a grim expression on her face.

“No!” Kane shouted, but the moment the words left his mouth, the pain exploded in his chest. His vision blurred.

Chen’s eyes widened as she saw the blood staining Kane’s shirt, the blood that flowed from the bullet wound. “Kane!”

The replica’s voice echoed from across the room. “Told you. You should’ve walked away.”

The world around Kane slowed to a crawl as the bullet tore through his side. He could hear Chen’s voice, but it was muffled, distant, as if coming from the far end of a long tunnel. His hand instinctively went to the wound, but it was too late to stop the bleeding. The blood soaked through his shirt, warm and sticky, every pulse reminding him how close to death he was.

Chen’s hands shook as she rushed to his side, but her focus never wavered. “Stay with me, Kane. You’re not dying on me.”

Her voice cut through the fog in Kane’s mind. He blinked, trying to stay conscious, but the pain was overwhelming. The room spun, and the edges of his vision began to fade. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his grip on reality.

“ I will get yo out of here!” Chen shouted, her voice commanding, but laced with a desperation that Kane had never heard before.

The replica of Victor Hawthorne, still standing in the middle of the room with that unsettling calm, watched the scene unfold with a cold smile.

“You won’t make it out of here alive,” he taunted. “Not with the ledger. Not with the truth you’re trying to uncover. You’re too late, Detective. This is bigger than you.”

Kane's eyes locked with Chen’s—his partner, his only ally. Despite the pain, he found himself reaching for her hand, weakly, just as the world began to darken around him.

Her grip tightened around his, her face a mask of fierce determination. “Don’t you dare die on me, Kane. Not like this.”

Kane’s lips parted, but he couldn’t find the strength to speak. His breath was shallow, and his body felt like it was giving up on him.

But there was something else—something deeper—that kept him tethered to this moment. The way Chen’s fingers wrapped around his, the way she fought to hold him together, even when it seemed impossible. It wasn’t just a partnership. It was something more.

Kane had always known Chen was special. They’d been partners for years, and over time, their trust in each other had grown so deeply that they could anticipate one another’s moves without a word. Where Kane was impulsive, quick to act and react, Chen was precise, calculating, and methodical. Together, they made a perfect team—his instincts, her intellect.

But what made them truly exceptional was the understanding they shared, the unspoken bond that came from fighting side by side in the chaos of the underworld. They knew what it meant to make hard choices, to walk the line between right and wrong, and to face death knowing that, at the end of the day, the only person they could count on was the one standing next to them.

Over the years, Kane had come to trust Chen more than anyone. Maybe more than himself. She had saved him more times than he could count, always calm under pressure, always ready with a plan when his own faltered.

But tonight, the tables were turned.

“Stay with me, Kane,” she said again, her voice low, almost like a prayer. There was a rawness in her eyes—a vulnerability that Kane had never seen before. It was the same desperation that gripped him now, the same feeling of helplessness.

Chen had always been the strong one, the one who held it all together when everything around them was falling apart. But tonight, Kane realized just how much he relied on her—on her strength, her steady hand, her ability to make him believe, even when the odds seemed impossible.

She wasn’t just his partner. She was his lifeline.

And he wasn’t going to let her go, not like this.

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire echoed again, louder this time, and a bullet ricocheted off the wall next to them. Chen yanked Kane to the floor, using her body to shield his. He could feel the heat of her back against his chest, the frantic rhythm of her breath. They were both out of time, out of options.

The replica, unfazed by the chaos, stepped forward, his eyes cold as he surveyed the scene. “It’s too late for heroics. You’ll die here, Detective. The ledger is already in the wrong hands, and it doesn’t matter who holds it now.”

As the words left his mouth, the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Kane could feel the weight of the replica’s gaze bearing down on him. This wasn’t just a man trying to stop them. This was a man who knew exactly how to break them, mentally, physically, emotionally.

But Kane wasn’t ready to give up—not yet. He could feel Chen’s grip tightening around his, as though she had made a silent vow that they would see this through together, no matter what.

A flicker of movement at the door caught his eye. More figures—masked, armed, and deadly—had appeared, closing in on them. There was no way out. The walls were closing in.

Then, without warning, the lights in the house flickered, plunging the room into darkness. A beat later, a sharp, high-pitched sound—an alarm—began blaring from every corner of the building.

“Now,” Kane heard Chen whisper in the pitch black.

In that moment, Kane understood. They weren’t out of options yet. This wasn’t the end. Chen had a plan.

But as he tried to gather the strength to follow her lead, something else hit him—a terrible realization.

The replica hadn’t been lying. This was bigger than just him and Chen. Someone was pulling the strings, and they had underestimated just how far their enemies were willing to go.

Suddenly, everything around him seemed to shift. He felt the cool, metallic pressure of a gun barrel against the back of his head.

Kane turned his head, his mind racing—Chen was still with him, but there was no way out now.

The voice that came next made his blood run cold.

“It’s over, Detective Kane. You’ve been a pawn in this game since the beginning. And now... you’re done.”

With a sickening click, the gun was cocked, aimed directly at the back of Kane’s skull.

He didn’t know if it was the replica or someone else. He didn’t know if they were going to die here, or if Chen would pull them both out of this last disaster. All he knew was that the end was coming for them—soon.

And as he lay there in the dark, the cold barrel pressed to his head, Kane’s last thought wasn’t about the case. It wasn’t about the ledger. It was about one thing: How had it come to this?