CHAPTER 17

The city was different now. Or maybe it was just Evelyn.

She stood on the rooftop of an old high-rise, looking down at the streets below. The distant hum of life continued—cars, sirens, people moving as if nothing had changed. As if Adrian's death hadn't shifted the balance of everything.

But it had.

The weight of it sat heavy on her shoulders. It wasn't regret—she had none. Adrian had deserved every ounce of pain he suffered before the end. But there was something else. A hollowness she hadn't anticipated.

For years, her existence had been fueled by vengeance. Now, that vengeance had been fulfilled.

So why did it feel like she was still waiting for something?

A gust of wind ruffled her hair, and she tightened her coat around her. Ronan was somewhere below, tying up loose ends, making sure Adrian's empire crumbled for good. They had won.

So why didn't it feel like victory?

Shadows That Refuse to Fade

She had returned to her safe house, but it didn't feel safe anymore. Not because of any physical threat—no, Adrian's men were either dead, defected, or too terrified to move against her.

It was the silence.

The same silence that had followed her ever since she pulled the trigger.

Evelyn poured herself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. It burned as it went down, but the fire did nothing to thaw the cold inside her.

She glanced at the television, where a muted news report ran:

"Police are investigating the deaths of several high-profile figures linked to underground crime syndicates. Unconfirmed reports suggest power struggles within the criminal underworld have left a dangerous vacuum. Authorities are urging civilians to remain cautious."

She let out a humorless laugh. Cautious? The city had always been dangerous. The difference now was that the devil running it was dead.

But devils had a way of leaving their mark.

A knock at the door snapped her back to the present.

Ronan.

She unlocked it, stepping aside as he entered. He looked like hell—blood on his knuckles, a fresh cut above his brow—but there was a strange lightness in his eyes.

"It's done," he said.

Evelyn arched a brow. "Completely?"

Ronan nodded. "The last of Adrian's men either surrendered or ran. There's no one left to fight."

She leaned against the counter, staring at him. "Then why do I feel like this isn't over?"

Ronan sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Because you've been fighting for so long, you don't know what it feels like to stop."

The words cut deeper than she expected.

She looked away, setting her glass down. "So what now?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He studied her, as if trying to decide what she wanted to hear. Then, softly—"That's up to you."

She hated that answer. She hated that, for the first time in years, there was no clear next move.

For so long, revenge had been her compass. Without it, she wasn't sure where to go.

But she knew one thing—she couldn't stay here.

"I need to disappear," she said finally.

Ronan didn't look surprised. "Do you know where you'll go?"

She exhaled. "No."

And that was the scariest part.

The Ghosts That Haunt Us

Evelyn had always believed that killing Adrian would give her peace.

Instead, it had left a void.

She walked through the empty streets, her hands buried in her coat pockets. The neon glow of the city cast everything in an eerie, artificial light. She passed a café where she and Adrian had once met, back when they were still playing their twisted game of deception and seduction.

Back when she had believed in him.

She stopped outside the window, staring at the empty table in the corner. A ghost of a memory surfaced—Adrian, smirking over a cup of black coffee, eyes glinting with mischief.

"You should trust me more, Evelyn."

A bitter smile ghosted her lips.

"I did, once."

The past was full of shadows, and she had spent years trying to outrun them. But maybe they had always been running beside her, waiting for the moment she stopped.

Maybe they would never leave.

She turned away from the café, exhaling into the cold air.

She had to go.

Before the past swallowed her whole.

A Loose End That Shouldn't Exist

Two days later, Evelyn was packing what little she owned when she got the message.

A single text.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You missed one.

Her pulse spiked.

She stared at the screen, fingers tightening around the phone. The words weren't a threat. They were a warning.

And she had a sick feeling she knew what they meant.

Her mind raced. Had she made a mistake? Had Adrian planned for his own demise? Or was this something worse?

She dialed Ronan.

"Tell me you sent this."

His voice was sharp. "What?"

She sent the screenshot. Seconds passed in silence before he responded.

"I didn't send this. And neither did anyone on our side."

The room suddenly felt smaller. Colder.

Evelyn's grip tightened on the phone. "Then we have a problem."

The Storm Before the End

Ronan arrived within the hour. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Whoever sent this knows something we don't."

Evelyn leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Do you think it's a bluff?"

Ronan shook his head. "No. Whoever this is, they have access to our numbers. That means they're close."

Evelyn's mind churned. She had killed Adrian herself. She had watched him die. There was no way he could still be pulling strings.

Unless…

A cold thought slithered through her.

Unless someone else had been waiting in the wings all along.

She met Ronan's gaze. "We need to find out who sent this. Now."

Because if she had learned anything from Adrian, it was this—

The real threats never came screaming. They came whispering.

And whoever was whispering now?

They weren't finished yet.