A Reckoning on the Streets

Red was walking down the shadowy streets, his thoughts focused on the intel he had gathered. The few nights spent with the women weren't for pleasure but for information, and they had proven more resourceful than he initially anticipated.

"Vex," he muttered to himself, "soon, your time will run out."

Just as he rounded a corner, a hand suddenly grabbed his collar and shoved him hard against the wall. The impact was forceful, but Red didn't flinch. His reflexes kicked in, and he immediately grabbed the wrist of his assailant—only to stop when he recognized the face in front of him.

"Ms. Abigail," he said coldly, his voice calm despite the situation. "What is the meaning of this?"

Abigail's eyes were wild with frustration. "Don't play games with me, Samuel. First, you beat gangsters into submission. And now, prostitutes? What the hell are you doing?"

Red calmly removed her grip from his collar, his expression devoid of emotion. "Your involvement, Ms. Abigail, is none of my concern," he said, brushing off his jacket as if nothing had happened.

Her frustration boiled over, and before she could stop herself, Abigail slapped him across the face. The sharp sound echoed in the narrow alleyway. "I'm your wife!" she shouted. "I have every right to ask!"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to her utter shock, Samuel laughed—a cold, bitter laugh that made her shiver. He straightened himself, his demeanor shifting from calm to dangerous. And then, without hesitation, he slapped her back.

The force of the blow wasn't physical—it wasn't the pain that shocked Abigail. It was the audacity, the raw defiance, that left her stunned.

Red stepped closer, his voice sharp as a blade.

"A wife? Which wife are you talking about, Abigail? The one who brought men into our home and into our bed in front of her husband?"

Abigail's breath hitched, her face a mix of anger and guilt.

Red didn't stop. His voice was rising, each word filled with years of suppressed rage. "Which wife are you referring to? The one who ripped my sister away from me? The one who destroyed every shred of dignity I had left?"

Abigail was speechless. She had never seen Samuel like this—so unrelenting, so detached, so full of righteous fury.

"You're not my wife," Red said, his tone dropping into an icy calm. "You never were. You were my tormentor. And now? Now, you're just a memory I'm leaving behind."

He stepped past her, brushing her aside as if she were nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

Abigail turned, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "This isn't over, Samuel," she hissed. "You can't just walk away from me!"

Red stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his face devoid of any warmth. "I already have."

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Abigail standing alone in the cold, bitter reality of what she had lost—and what she had created.

The streets of the old district were a maze of narrow alleys and crumbling buildings, each corner steeped in shadows and whispers. Red walked with purpose, his mind fixed on the broker named Vex and the trail leading to the relic.

As he turned a corner, he heard the faint rev of an engine. A sleek black car came to a screeching halt in front of him, blocking his path. The door opened, and out stepped Joshua, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit but with an air of arrogance that clung to him like a bad perfume.

"Well, well, well," Joshua sneered, stepping into Red's path. "The ghost returns. You shouldn't have come back, Samuel."

Red halted, his expression unreadable. He regarded Joshua for a moment, then glanced at his watch before meeting his gaze.

"Abigail's little lover," Red said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. "I don't have time for your chitchat. Move aside."

Joshua bristled at the dismissive tone, his hands balling into fists. "You think you can just walk away? After everything, you still act like you're above us. You don't belong here anymore. You're a shadow of the man you used to be!"

Red stepped closer, his piercing gaze cutting through Joshua's bravado. "You're right," he said evenly. "I'm not the man I used to be. That man cared about what people like you thought. I don't."

Joshua flinched but quickly recovered, his anger bubbling to the surface. "You think you're better than me? You're nothing! Abigail—"

"Abigail," Red interrupted, his voice sharp, "is no longer my concern. She can have her games, her toys, her lies. None of it matters to me anymore."

Red took another step forward, his presence overpowering. Joshua instinctively took a step back.

"You're just another distraction," Red continued, his tone icy. "And I don't deal with distractions."

Joshua's confidence wavered, but he forced a smirk onto his face. "You'll regret ignoring her, Samuel. She doesn't forgive. She doesn't forget."

Red tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Neither do I."

Without another word, Red sidestepped Joshua and continued down the alley, his coat trailing behind him. Joshua stood frozen, watching him disappear into the shadows, a mix of fear and anger twisting his features.

Red's mind was already back on his mission. The relic was waiting, and he wouldn't let anything—or anyone—stand in his way.