But standing here now, with the weight of Cain’s game pressing down on him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been heading toward this moment his whole life.
Dr. Elias Ren.
A name he had never spoken. A name that now defined everything.
And if John didn’t figure out what Ren had left behind, Cain would.
That couldn’t happen.
John sat on the rooftop of a crumbling building, watching the city below.
Aria had disappeared into the night again. She had given him just enough information to keep him on edge—but not enough to trust her.
Typical.
That didn’t matter. He didn’t need her help.
What he needed was a starting point.
And he had one.
Ren hadn’t just been a scientist—he had been one of Cain’s personal engineers.
That meant paperwork. Records. Places where his name would still exist.
If Cain had wiped out any public trace of him, then there was only one place left to look.
The black-market data hubs.
John exhaled.
It was time to visit an old acquaintance.
The Lower Grid was where information went to be forgotten.
Or sold.
It was a collection of underground data hubs, buried beneath layers of back-alley contacts, corrupted officials, and people who didn’t ask questions.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
And Malik ran one of them.
John had dealt with him before. Once.
It hadn’t gone well.
But right now, Malik was his best shot at finding anything Cain didn’t want found.
So John kept his hood low, stepped into the crowded street, and made his way toward the den of liars and thieves.
Malik’s hideout was tucked between a pawn shop and a gambling den, disguised as a repair shop for old tech.
John walked inside, the scent of metal and machine oil filling his lungs.
The man behind the counter looked up.
Scarred knuckles. Greasy fingers. Eyes that didn’t trust anyone.
"Well, well," Malik drawled. "Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again, kid."
John kept his face blank. "I need a name."
Malik smirked. "Everyone does. What makes yours special?"
John slid a folded note across the counter.
Malik picked it up, unfolded it—and the smirk disappeared.
He looked at John. Really looked at him.
"You have no idea what you’re asking for," Malik said.
John didn’t blink. "Then it’s worth something, isn’t it?"
A long pause.
Then, Malik exhaled.
"Follow me."
Malik led John into the back room, past shelves of old computer parts and buried data drives that people thought were lost.
He stopped at a rusted console, fingers moving over the keyboard.
"This is all I got," Malik muttered.
John stepped forward as a single file appeared on the cracked screen.
A research log.
- Name: Dr. Elias Ren
- Project: [REDACTED]
- Last Known Location: CLASSIFIED
John’s pulse quickened.
Malik leaned back. "That’s all that’s left. Everything else? Scrubbed clean."
John stared at the words.
His gut told him this was it.
But before he could process it—
Malik sighed. "You should leave, kid."
John frowned. "Why?"
Malik’s expression darkened.
"Because if you found this?" he muttered. "Then Cain already knows you were looking."
John’s stomach dropped.
John moved.
Fast.
He turned for the door, heart hammering.
He had wasted too much time. Malik was right.
Cain was always ahead.
And right now?
John was in the worst possible place to be caught.
He stepped into the front room—
And froze.
A figure stood by the entrance.
Not a street thug.
Not a low-level enforcer.
No.
This was someone else.
Someone John had never seen before—but instantly recognized.
A man in a tailored black coat, his presence like a blade hidden beneath silk.
And his eyes—cold, calculating—locked onto John with quiet amusement.
"Found what you were looking for?" the man asked smoothly.
John’s pulse spiked.
Because he knew exactly who this was.
One of Cain’s top enforcers.
A man known only as Sable.
And John?
John was trapped.