The air grew heavy with unease as I felt a piercing gaze boring into me, a presence far more sinister than mere curiosity. My eyes darted to the corner of the coffee shop where a man sat, seemingly engrossed in a newspaper. But something was off his stiff posture, the paper held upside down, and the way his eyes flicked over the top toward us betrayed his intentions. My instincts kicked in, and I approached him, confronting him outright. He denied everything, his voice shaky, but the tension snapped when he bolted for the door. Without hesitation, I gave chase, weaving through the crowded streets as he darted around corners like a shadow. My heart pounded as I finally closed the distance, only to lose him when he turned a corner and vanished into thin air. It was as if he’d evaporated, leaving me standing there, baffled and winded.

Lara and Vincent caught up moments later, panting and confused. I explained the encounter, my voice tinged with frustration. "Someone was watching us, listening in. We need to be careful this isn’t just coincidence anymore." Their faces mirrored my concern, but before we could dive deeper, my phone buzzed. Lola was on the other end, her tone grave.

“There’s another suspect tied to the murders,” she said. “A man named Manalo. Ex-convict. Big guy, intimidating. They called him ‘The Headsquasher’ in prison for a reason. Someone bailed him out recently—rich guy. Suspicious, isn’t it?”

The name sent a jolt through me. Manalo. I knew him. Years ago, he’d been accused of a brutal crime, his reputation cemented by his hulking frame and the whispers of prison legend. Yet something about his case had never sat right with me. Back then, I lacked the experience to dig deeper, to see the man beneath the rumors. But now...

If Manalo had connections to the shadowy events gripping the city, I couldn’t afford to ignore it. “Looks like we’re going to the skwater area,” I said, already planning my approach. Vincent groaned in protest, but Lara’s steely gaze told me she was ready. Whatever dark truths awaited us, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were getting closer to something far bigger and far deadlier than we’d imagined.

The neon lights of the bar flickered against the humid night air, illuminating the cracked pavement and the hazy smog hanging over the skwater area. The pounding bass of music grew louder as Vincent and I approached the entrance. Lara had parted ways with us earlier, saying she needed to head home and process everything we’d discussed.

“She’s probably having second thoughts about getting involved,” Vincent muttered, adjusting his collar. “Smart choice. Unlike us, plunging headfirst into this mess.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s brave. More than you, playboy.”

“Brave? Please. I could handle ten of those monsters if they came at me right now,” Vincent boasted, flexing slightly.

“Just don’t embarrass yourself in there,” I replied, exasperated.

As we entered, the smoky, dim-lit bar was alive with energy. Men in leather jackets leaned against the walls, women with smudged eyeliner laughed at tables, and bartenders slung drinks with practiced efficiency. The air smelled of cheap booze and sweat, a mix that clung to the walls like a second skin.

Near the entrance stood Manalo, his hulking frame unmistakable. His sheer size made him an intimidating presence, but his smile was disarming, genuine even. When he saw me, his face lit up with recognition.

“Damien,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the noise like a knife. “Been a while. Figured you’d find your way here eventually.”

I extended a hand, which he clasped firmly. “Manalo. Good to see you. How’s your mom?”

“She’s good,” he said, his voice softening. “Thanks to you. She thinks the help we’ve been getting is from me. But I know who deserves the credit.”

“You earned it,” I replied, my tone sincere. “I always knew you were innocent.”

Manalo’s expression darkened slightly. “Not everyone believed that. But you... your gut was right. What do you need from me?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “There’s been a lot going on. You’re being tied to the serial murders happening in the city. I don’t believe it for a second, but if you’ve seen or heard anything anything at all, it could help clear your name and get us closer to stopping this.”

Manalo sighed heavily, glancing around the bar. “There is something. The guy who bailed me out... he wasn’t just some random rich dude. He offered me a job in delivering a suitcase to an abandoned building. When I got there, it wasn’t just any old drop-off. There were men there... strange men, dressed in robes and muttering things I couldn’t understand. They gave me the creeps, like they were sizing me up to eat me.”

“Eat you?” Vincent interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “You sure this wasn’t just a weird dinner party?”

Manalo ignored him, continuing, “Their boss stepped in. He told them to back off, and they did like he had some kind of control over them. If he hadn’t, I’m not sure I’d be here talking to you.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I leaned closer. “Who is this boss? Do you know his name?”

Manalo shook his head. “No. But I know where you might find him. He’s connected to a place. Here.” He scribbled an address on a napkin and handed it to me. “Be careful, Damien. This isn’t something you should dig into lightly.”

I pocketed the napkin. “If I don’t, more people will die. I can’t let that happen.”

As we wrapped up the conversation, a loud commotion erupted from the other side of the bar. I turned to see Vincent of course, and Vincent who was standing in the middle of a circle of angry-looking men, his face flushed.

“What the hell is he doing now?” I muttered, heading toward the chaos.

Apparently, Vincent had decided to “charm” a group of women sitting at the bar, showering them with over-the-top compliments and declarations of his supposed wealth. Unfortunately for him, one of the women’s boyfriends, a mountain of a man with tattoos covering his arms had taken offense. Now, Vincent was gesturing wildly, trying to talk his way out of a fight.

“Look, I didn’t know she was taken!” Vincent said, backing up. “But hey, compliments are free, right? No harm done!”

The boyfriend cracked his knuckles. “You trying to steal her, pretty boy?”

“No, no, no! Just appreciating the view! You know, like a fine art exhibit—”

The man lunged, but Vincent darted behind a table, upending drinks and eliciting shouts of protest from nearby patrons.

I stepped in, raising my hands. “Alright, everyone, calm down. Vincent, stop antagonizing people.”

“Antagonizing? I’m the victim here!” Vincent protested from behind a chair.

Manalo stepped forward, towering over the boyfriend. “Hey. This guy’s with me. Let it go.”

The boyfriend hesitated, glancing at Manalo, and then backed off with a grunt. “Fine. Keep your clown on a leash.”

Vincent straightened his jacket, grinning sheepishly. “See? All part of the plan.”

I glared at him. “Next time, I’m letting you handle it alone.”

As we left the bar, Manalo gave me a final warning. “Be careful, Damien. And keep an eye on him,” he added, nodding toward Vincent.

“I’m trying,” I replied, exhausted. “I’m really trying.”

As we stepped out of the bar, the night was heavy with tension. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional flicker of a streetlamp and the distant hum of a tricycle engine. Vincent was still preening after his “victory” in avoiding a fight inside.

“You see that, Damien? Smooth as silk,” Vincent said, gesturing dramatically. “They didn’t stand a chance against my diplomacy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Diplomacy? You mean hiding behind a chair until Manalo saved you?”

He waved me off. “Details, details.”

We were halfway to our rides when a shadowy group of figures emerged from an alley. At first, I thought they were just passersby, but as they drew closer, I recognized them the tattooed, angry, and armed men with glinting balisongs. The boyfriend from earlier was leading the pack, his expression twisted with rage.

“Well, well, look who’s still hanging around,” he sneered. “You think you can embarrass me in front of my girl and just walk away?”

Vincent froze, his bravado quickly evaporating. “Uh, Damien, I think they want a rematch. You got this, right?”

I stepped forward, my body tense but ready. “We don’t want any trouble,” I said calmly. “Walk away while you still can.”

The man laughed coldly, flipping his balisong open with a practiced flourish. “You’re the one who’s gonna be walking away in pieces.”

The first attacker lunged, his blade aiming for my side. Years of training with my father kicked in instinctively. I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist mid-swing and twisting it sharply. The knife clattered to the ground, and with a quick elbow to his temple, he crumpled to the pavement.

Two more men charged at me from opposite sides. I ducked under the wild swing of one and landed a solid punch to his ribs, feeling the satisfying crack of bone beneath my fist. Spinning on my heel, I blocked the second man’s blade with my forearm, then delivered a sharp knee to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

“Whoa, Damien! You didn’t tell me you were Bruce Lee’s long-lost cousin!” Vincent shouted, clearly impressed but doing nothing to help.

“Less talking, more running!” I snapped, dodging another strike.

The fight was relentless. One of the attackers managed to slash at my shoulder, the blade grazing my skin and drawing a thin line of blood. I hissed in pain but retaliated with a roundhouse kick that sent him sprawling into a pile of garbage bags.

Another man tried to grab me from behind, but I threw my head back, smashing it into his nose with a sickening crunch. He staggered away, cursing and clutching his face.

Just as I was gaining the upper hand, I heard Vincent scream.

“Damien! Help!” he yelled.

I turned to see Vincent held at knifepoint by the boyfriend, who had one arm wrapped around his neck and the other pressing the blade against his throat.

“Alright, tough guy,” the man growled. “Drop the act, or your friend gets it.”

Vincent, despite the danger, couldn’t resist a quip. “I’m not his friend. I barely know the guy. You’re making a huge mistake!”

“Shut up,” the man barked, tightening his grip.

“Damien!” Vincent called out again, his voice rising in panic. “Do something! Preferably something heroic!”

I assessed the situation quickly. The other men were either unconscious or too dazed to pose an immediate threat, but this guy wasn’t bluffing. I needed a distraction.

That’s when I spotted a loose rock on the ground near my foot. It wasn’t big, but it was heavy enough.

Keeping my movements slow and deliberate, I bent down as if surrendering, pretending to reach for the dropped balisong from earlier. The man smirked, thinking he had the upper hand.

“You’re gonna regret...” he started, but he didn’t finish.

With a sharp flick of my wrist, I hurled the rock at his head. It hit its mark with a dull thud, and the man’s grip on Vincent slackened as he stumbled backward, dazed.

“Nice shot!” Vincent exclaimed, prying himself free and scrambling out of reach. “You should join a baseball team.”

The boyfriend tried to recover, but I was on him in an instant. A quick jab to his throat and a sweeping kick to his legs sent him crashing to the ground. I pressed my foot against his chest, pinning him down.

“This is your last chance,” I said, my voice cold and unwavering. “Stay down.”

He glared up at me, breathing heavily, but the fight had left him. With a nod, I stepped back, letting him crawl away into the shadows.

Vincent dusted himself off, shaking his head. “Well, that was... invigorating.”

“You mean terrifying,” I replied, wiping the blood from my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before they come back.”

As we walked away, Vincent couldn’t help himself. “You know, I think I handled that pretty well. Great teamwork, right?”

I shot him a look. “Next time, you’re on your own.”

“Noted,” he said, grinning. “But I’d still prefer if you saved me. It’s kind of your thing now.”