Billy didn’t go straight back to his safe house. Not yet. The Crimson Club was a minefield, and if Blackthorn was right, he was already treading on dangerous ground.

He took the long way, slipping into an abandoned parking garage two blocks away. The structure was empty, save for the occasional flickering light overhead. It would do.

Leaning against the concrete wall, Billy pulled out the envelope.

Thick paper. Unmarked. He slid a knife from his boot—his backup blade they hadn’t caught at the entrance—and sliced it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper. No preamble. Just a list of names.

Billy’s pulse slowed as he scanned them.

Darius Blackthorn – Expected.

Lucas Voss – An arms dealer. Ruthless. But what was he doing here?

Selene March – A senator’s wife. That made no sense.

Warden Kane – That was a problem.

Billy’s eyes stopped on the last name.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

William Knight.

His own name.

A cold feeling settled in his gut.

Blackthorn hadn’t lied. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. Someone out there had plans for him.

A second sheet was tucked behind the first. Billy pulled it free. Unlike the first page, this one wasn’t typed. It was handwritten. A single phrase.

The Abyss calls.

Billy’s grip tightened.

The Abyss. He’d heard whispers of it before. A faction? A shadow organization? No one knew for sure. But if they had ties to Blackthorn, to Kane, to him—

He was in deeper than he thought.

Footsteps.

Billy reacted instantly, slipping into the shadows behind a support beam, the envelope tucked away.

A figure stepped into view, illuminated by the dim yellow glow of the overhead light. Tall, lean, dressed in dark tactical gear. Not random. Armed. Trained.

Billy didn’t wait.

He moved.

Silent, fast—one step, two—his knife was at the man’s throat before he could turn.

“Who sent you?” Billy growled.

No panic. Just a smirk.

“Welcome to the game, Knight.”

Then the man bit down hard—a crunch of teeth on metal.

Billy barely had time to yank back before the body went rigid, convulsing violently. Cyanide.

Billy swore under his breath. Whoever this was, he’d rather die than talk. That meant something.

The Abyss wasn’t just watching.

They were here.

And now, Billy was officially marked.

He looked down at the paper again. The names. His name.

This wasn’t just about survival anymore.

It was war.

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END OF CHAPTER 93