The engine of the black sedan hummed softly in the dim light of the setting sun. Jackson Valentine sat in the driver's seat, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the steering wheel. His eyes, cold and calculating, surveyed the rundown neighborhood through the cracked windshield. The houses here were barely standing, with peeling paint and sagging roofs that spoke of neglect and despair. This was the kind of place where people disappeared without a trace, where nobody asked questions and nobody cared enough to answer.

Jackson had seen places like this before. Too many times. The kind of place where a child could be forgotten, lost in the cracks of a broken system. His gaze shifted to the small, dilapidated house at the end of the street. That’s where Devon Harper was. A little boy, barely ten years old, with a target on his back. Innocent, unaware of the danger that loomed just beyond his door.

Gabriel had gone inside to scope out the property, leaving Jackson alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that were heavy with the weight of what they were about to do. Protecting the boy was not part of the original plan. Dimitri Giovanni’s orders had been clear: eliminate the threat, tie up loose ends. But Jackson and Gabriel had made a decision—a rare act of defiance. They would not kill an innocent child. Instead, they would get him out, move him to Atlanta where his deceased wife’s sister and her husband would take him in.

But there was a problem. Aleksander and Jacob, two of Giovanni’s most ruthless enforcers, were already on the move. They had their own agenda, and it didn’t include leaving witnesses. Aleksander wanted Giovanni’s empire for himself, and taking out the boy was just the first step in a bloody coup.

Jackson shifted in his seat, his mind running through the possibilities. He wasn’t afraid of Aleksander or Jacob. He had faced men like them before—calculating, dangerous, always looking for the upper hand. But this time, there was more at stake. This wasn’t just another contract, another name on a list. This was a child’s life, and Jackson wasn’t about to let him be another casualty in a war he didn’t even know existed.

Gabriel returned to the car, crouching down to speak to his friend.

“Alright, looks like the property is secure. The boy’s inside. Let’s go.” Jackson nodded to himself, his hand moving to the glove compartment where his silenced pistol lay waiting. He hesitated, fingers brushing the cool metal, before he pushed the compartment shut. He didn’t need the gun. Not yet. He had something else in mind.

If they wanted Devon to have a chance at a normal life then he would have to disappear, just another ghost in a world full of them.

Jackson stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against his face as he made his way toward the house. Gabriel was waiting at the front door, his expression grim.

“He’s in there,” Gabriel said quietly, nodding toward the door. “He’s scared, but he’ll be fine. We need to move quickly. Aleksander and Jacob are probably on their way by now.”

Jackson nodded, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the street. They had to get the boy out before they arrived. Time was running out.

Gabriel opened the door, revealing a small, shabby living room. Devon was huddled on the couch, his wide eyes fixed on Jackson as he entered. The boy looked younger than his age, fragile, and scared.

“Come on, kid,” Gabriel said softly, kneeling down to Devon’s level. “We’re gonna take you somewhere safe. You just have to trust us.”

Devon looked at Gabriel, then at Jackson, who gave him a small nod. The boy hesitated, then slowly slid off the couch and took Gabriel’s hand. Jackson watched them for a moment, his chest tightening with a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years—responsibility. Protecting this boy wasn’t just a job anymore. It was something more.

They moved quickly, guiding Devon out of the house and toward the car. Just as they reached the curb, Jackson’s instincts flared. He heard the faint roar of an approaching engine, the unmistakable sound of trouble.

Aleksander and Jacob.

Jackson grabbed Gabriel’s arm, urgency flashing in his eyes. He gestured toward the car, then pointed back to the house. Gabriel understood immediately, his expression hardening.

“You’re sure about this?” Gabriel asked, already knowing the answer.

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Jackson nodded, pressing the keys into Gabriel’s hand. There was no time for words, only action.

Gabriel hesitated for a brief moment, then ushered Devon into the back seat. “I’ll get him out of here. Meet me in Atlanta,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

Jackson gave him a final nod before turning away, heading back toward the house. He moved quickly, slipping into the shadows just as the headlights of Aleksander’s car appeared at the end of the street.

Jackson Valentine was a ghost, a shadow in the night. And tonight, he would do what he did best—protect the innocent, and eliminate the threat.

As Gabriel’s car sped away, Jackson positioned himself inside the house, waiting in the darkness. Aleksander and Jacob wouldn’t know what hit them.

The front door of the house creaked open, the sound almost imperceptible in the silence of the night. Jackson Valentine remained perfectly still in the shadows, his breathing controlled, his senses heightened. He could feel the vibrations of footsteps through the wooden floor, the soft rustle of clothing as Aleksander and Jacob entered the small, decrepit home.

Aleksander’s voice broke the silence first, low and menacing. “You sure this is the place? It looks like it’s about to fall apart.”

Jacob, the quieter of the two, grunted in response. “This is the address. The boy’s here. We take care of him, and then Giovanni’s empire is ours.”

Jackson listened intently, his mind racing. He knew Aleksander and Jacob were dangerous, but he also knew that they were overconfident, reckless. They underestimated him—most people did. A mute killer, a man without a voice, was easy to overlook. But that was their mistake, not his.

Aleksander moved further into the house, his footsteps growing louder as he approached the living room. “We’ll make this quick. Giovanni won’t know what hit him. And the boy? He’s just collateral damage.”

“What about your boy, Jackson?”

“We take care of him too. He’s a good killer, but his need for having a “code” is making things difficult for us. Take him out.”

“With pleasure.” Jacob says with a malicious grin.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed, anger simmering just below the surface. He didn’t care about Giovanni or his empire, but the boy? Devon didn’t deserve this. No one deserved to be a pawn in a game they didn’t even know they were playing.

He slipped his hand into his jacket, fingers closing around the hilt of his knife. The gun was still in the car with Gabriel—he preferred it that way. Guns were loud, messy. A knife was silent, precise, and it left no trace of hesitation.

Jackson waited until Jacob was fully in the room before making his move. He stepped out from the shadows, his movements fluid and silent, a ghost in the night. Jacob didn’t even have time to react before Jackson was on him, the knife slicing through the air with deadly precision.

The blade found its mark, plunging into his side. He gasped, a strangled sound escaping his lips as he staggered back, clutching at the wound. His eyes widened in shock as he finally saw Jackson, standing before him, expressionless and calm.

“Fucker…” Jacob managed to choke out, blood seeping through his fingers.

Jackson didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The knife twisted in his hand, driving deeper into Jacob’s flesh before he pulled it free, letting the man collapse to the floor.

Jacob was already moving, pulling out his gun as he realized what was happening. But Jackson was faster. He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, knocking the gun from Jacob’s hand with a swift kick. The weapon clattered to the floor, useless.

Aleksander swung at him, but Jackson ducked under the blow, his knife flashing again. This time, the blade cut deeply across his cheek, leaving a gash. Aleks groaned, collapsing to the floor while clutching his face. Just as Jackson was poised to deliver the final blow, Aleks managed to kick Jackson’s shin, sending him sprawling. Seizing the opportunity, Aleks fled into the night, vanishing into the darkness.

Jackson stood over Jacob’s corpse, his breathing steady, his heart rate barely elevated. He wiped the blade clean on Jacob’s jacket before slipping it back into its sheath. The room was deathly silent, the only sound the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.

He moved quickly, searching him for anything useful—phones, keys, documents. Jacob had a small, leather-bound notebook tucked into his jacket. Jackson flipped it open, scanning the contents. It was full of names, places, and dates—details of the plan to overthrow Giovanni, and the names of those involved. It was a kill list.

Jackson pocketed the notebook, his mind already working through the implications. This was more than just a power grab. Aleksander and Jacob had been planning this for months, maybe longer. The boy was just a small piece of a much larger puzzle.

He heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance, growing louder. Someone must have heard something—the crash, the struggle. It didn’t matter. He needed to be gone before they arrived.

Jackson made his way to the back of the house, slipping out through a side door into the night. The shadows welcomed him, concealing him as he moved swiftly through the alleys and back streets, putting distance between himself and the scene of the crime.

As he disappeared into the night, his thoughts turned to Gabriel and Devon. They would be safe now, on their way to Atlanta. Jackson would meet them there, eventually. But first, he had to get his daughter. No way he would leave her alone after tonight and not with Aleksander on the loose.

The notebook in his pocket was a death sentence for the man who had sent him here. Jacob had been dealt with, but Aleksander’s time was running out. Soon, he would him and finish him off before shit hit the fan. Then he had to inform Giovanni everything that had transpired.

Jackson Valentine had always been a man of few words, but when he spoke, it was with action. And his next move would be the final word in the conversation he had never wanted to start.

The sirens grew louder, but Jackson was already gone, leaving only echoes in the dark.