Chapter 70: Ashes of the Past

The warehouse burned behind him, a black column of smoke twisting into the night sky. Fred stumbled through the alleyways, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, his arm numb from the graze of a bullet. He had escaped—but not without scars.

The city felt different now. Colder. Emptier. Every sound, every flicker of light set his nerves on edge. He had severed his ties with Selene, but in doing so, he had also cut himself off from everything that had once protected him. He was alone now.

Every step he took echoed in the silence. Every choice he had made weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He found Ronan waiting in an abandoned parking lot a few blocks away, hunched over, hands trembling as he lit a cigarette. Fred could see it clearly now—the deep cracks in the man who had once been his friend.

"You made it," Ronan said without looking up, exhaling a shaky breath of smoke.

"Barely," Fred replied, voice rough. He slid down the wall beside Ronan, sitting heavily on the cold concrete. "Where do we go from here?"

Ronan flicked ash to the ground, his eyes hollow. "There's no going back. You know that."

Fred nodded slowly. Part of him had always known. Betrayal didn't come without a price.

"They'll come after us," Ronan muttered. "Selene won't stop. She'll burn the whole city to the ground to find us."

Fred tightened his jaw. "Then we find her first."

Ronan gave a bitter laugh. "You think we can take her down? She's got half the city under her thumb."

Fred's mind raced, memories flashing of secret meetings, whispered promises, deals sealed with blood. He had seen her operations, the faces of the people she controlled, the ones too afraid to stand against her.

"They're afraid of her because they think she's untouchable," Fred said. "We need to show them she's not."

Ronan turned to look at him finally, a flicker of something—hope, maybe—crossing his features. "You're serious."

Fred nodded. "Dead serious."

--

Before Ronan could respond, a soft clap echoed across the parking lot.

Both men jerked up, Fred drawing his weapon instinctively. A figure emerged from the darkness—a woman, tall and wrapped in a long coat, her face hidden by the low brim of her hat.

"Well said," she purred. Her voice was smooth, dangerously soft. "But if you're planning to take down Selene... you're going to need more than just good intentions."

Fred aimed the gun at her chest. "Who are you?"

The woman stopped a few feet away, raising her hands in mock surrender. "A friend. Or at least, someone who shares your enemy."

Fred didn't lower the weapon. "Name."

She smiled beneath the brim of her hat. "Call me Mira."

Ronan stiffened. "Mira? I thought you were dead."

The woman chuckled. "You should know better than to believe everything Selene tells you."

Fred glanced at Ronan, whose face had gone pale. If even Ronan knew her name, she wasn't just another street informant. She was someone important.

"What do you want?" Fred demanded.

Mira tilted her head. "To help you. Selene's empire is crumbling. I've been chipping away at it from the inside for months. But I can't finish the job alone."

Fred narrowed his eyes. "Why help us?"

A shadow crossed Mira's face. "Let's just say Selene took something from me. Something I intend to take back."

There was a rawness in her voice, a flicker of genuine pain that Fred recognized all too well. Loss. Betrayal. They were speaking the same language now.

Still, Fred hesitated. Trusting strangers had gotten him into this mess. Trusting the wrong people could finish him.

Mira seemed to sense his hesitation. She took a slow step forward, her hands still visible.

"You want to bring her down?" she said quietly. "I can give you her secrets. Her real secrets. The ones that even her enforcers don't know."

Fred's pulse quickened. If Mira was telling the truth, she could be the key to everything.

He lowered his gun—slightly.

"Talk," Fred said.

Mira's smile returned, sharper this time. "Good. You're going to want to hear this."

---

As Mira spoke, outlining the hidden network Selene had built, Fred felt a dangerous thing stir inside him—hope. Not blind, foolish hope. A razor-edged hope, born from desperation and fueled by rage.

Selene wasn't invincible. She could bleed. She could fall.

But the price of bringing her down would be high. Maybe higher than Fred could afford to pay.

Still, as he listened, the city lights flickering against the night sky, he knew one thing for certain:

There was no turning back.

There never had been.

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