THE BOY WHO DISAPPEARED

"Everything makes sense a bit at a time. But when you try to think of it all at once, it comes out wrong

— Terry Pratchett"

Edward pulled his car onto a quiet side street. The rain pattered against the windshield as he sat in silence, piecing together the fragments of the day.

He knew Gabriel’s name all too well—everyone in his line of work did. Gabriel’s organization was like a ghost: no obvious trails, no clear weaknesses, just whispers of its influence weaving through New York's underworld. And Gabriel didn’t surround himself with amateurs.

That was why Edward had recognized one of the men from the ambush, albeit faintly. The older bodyguard, the one who had been shot—Caleb, if memory served him right—was someone Edward had come across before. He’d seen Caleb in surveillance photos, always lingering on the periphery of Gabriel’s dealings. A steady presence, dependable but not extraordinary. Just another piece in Gabriel’s intricate puzzle.