John had spent his life suppressing emotions.
Fear. Pain. Anger.
Because in the slums, losing control meant losing everything.
But now?
Now, anger was all he had.
And Cain was about to find out what happened when he pushed too far.
John stood in the wreckage of the safehouse.
The air was thick with dust.
Eli was gone.
Taken.
John exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think.
The obvious question—where had they taken him?
The real question—why?
Because this wasn’t about the kid.
This was about John.
And if Cain wanted a reaction—
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
He was about to get one.
John’s mind worked faster than his pulse.
He scanned the room, searching for anything out of place.
Footsteps in the dust.
A dropped communicator.
The faint smell of burning ozone—stun rounds.
Then—he saw it.
A mark on the wall.
Subtle. Almost hidden.
But John recognized it instantly.
A symbol. A warning.
This wasn’t just Cain’s men.
This was Sable.
John clenched his jaw.
Of course Cain had sent his best.
But that meant he had a lead.
John moved.
Not blindly. Not recklessly.
But with intent.
Because if Sable had taken Eli, there were only a few places he could have gone.
And John?
John knew exactly which one to check first.
The docks were one of Cain’s less public operations.
Officially? A storage facility.
Unofficially?
It was where people disappeared.
John had never been desperate enough to come here before.
Now?
Now he wasn’t desperate.
He was ready.
John approached the warehouse without hesitation.
He wasn’t sneaking.
He wasn’t hiding.
Because Cain wanted him to come looking.
And John?
John wanted them to see him coming.
He stepped inside.
The moment he did—
The lights cut out.
And then, from the darkness—
A voice.
Calm. Cold. Expectant.
"I was wondering when you'd get here."
John’s pulse slowed.
Because he knew that voice.
Sable.
Waiting.
And now, the real fight was about to begin.
