Chapter 73: Shadows from the Past

The van rattled over potholes as Mira steered through the winding backstreets, headlights off, moving like a phantom through the half-awake city.

Fred sat in the back, pressing a makeshift bandage against the gash on his side.

Ronan, still semi-conscious, groaned beside him.

Mira's face was grim, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

They hadn't just survived an ambush—they had walked straight into a larger game they hadn't even known existed.

"We can't go back to the safehouse," Mira muttered. "They'll be expecting it."

Fred nodded, wincing. "Agreed. We need answers. Fast."

There was silence between them for a long moment.

Then Fred said the thing neither of them wanted to say:

"We need to find out who that assassin is."

Because whoever they were, they hadn't been sent just to kill.

They had been sent for a message.

Fred could feel it, heavy and unspoken in every brutal strike the assassin had made:

We know you. We are watching you.

And that terrified him more than any blade.

---

By midday, they had relocated to a crumbling apartment building in the city's ruins—a forgotten relic of old wars. Mira patched Fred up with shaking hands, neither of them speaking until the stitches were done.

Fred broke the silence first.

"We need a lead."

Mira glanced at him sharply. "I might have one."

Fred raised an eyebrow.

She hesitated—something very unlike her—and then said, "I know someone. A fixer. Name's Lyle. Used to broker contracts for... people like that."

"People like what?" Fred pressed.

Mira avoided his eyes. "Killers. Spies. Ghosts."

"How do you know him?"

A long silence.

Finally, Mira sighed. "Because I used to be one of them."

The words fell between them like broken glass.

Fred stared at her. "You?"

Mira shrugged bitterly. "Before I met you, before all this—I was Selene's asset. I was the one sent when subtlety failed."

Fred felt a cold knot tighten in his gut.

He had known Mira was dangerous.

Had seen flashes of it—the precision, the ruthlessness.

But hearing it confirmed twisted something inside him.

"You left," he said carefully.

"I did," she whispered. "And she never forgave me."

Fred nodded slowly. He wanted to believe her.

He had to believe her.

Because if he couldn't trust Mira…

He was already dead.

---

That night, under the cover of a roaring thunderstorm, Fred and Mira made their way to Lyle's den—a crumbling nightclub hidden behind the facade of an abandoned theater.

Inside, the air reeked of mold, sweat, and old betrayal.

Lyle sat in a booth under a flickering neon sign, draped in gold chains and bad cologne, his greasy hair slicked back.

He smiled when he saw Mira, though there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

"Mira, Mira, Mira," he drawled. "Thought you were dead. Or worse."

She slid into the booth opposite him, Fred at her side, silent and glaring.

"Information," Mira said bluntly. "Now."

Lyle chuckled nervously. "Depends. Information costs."

Fred leaned forward, letting his jacket fall open enough to reveal the pistol at his belt.

Lyle swallowed. "Or maybe... a discount for old friends."

He tapped his fingers nervously on the sticky table.

"You're asking about the masked one, yeah? The one who's been cutting through Selene's enemies like butter?"

Mira's voice was ice. "Name. Now."

Lyle licked his lips. "Goes by the codename Specter.

No real name. No face. No background anyone can find.

Rumor says Selene didn't hire Specter. She bought him."

Fred frowned. "Bought?"

Lyle nodded eagerly. "Specter isn't loyal. He's owned. Conditioned. Brainwashed. A weapon with no conscience, no mercy."

"How do we find him?" Fred asked.

Lyle hesitated. "You don't. Specter finds you. Only way to flip the script is to bait him. Draw him out."

Mira leaned closer, voice deadly soft. "How?"

Lyle's eyes darted around nervously.

"You hurt Selene bad enough—publicly, loudly. Embarrass her. Make her bleed."

"And then?"

"And then Specter comes for you."

---

Fred and Mira left the club without another word, rain pounding down in sheets around them.

At the van, Fred turned to her.

"We make her bleed," he said.

Mira nodded grimly. "Hard enough that she has no choice but to unleash her pet monster."

"And then?" Fred asked.

Mira's smile was thin and deadly.

"Then we kill him."

Fred looked out at the rain-soaked streets, a new fire burning in his chest.

Selene had sent Specter to kill him.

Now Fred was going to return the favor.

But deep down, a small voice whispered a chilling truth:

No matter how this ended, none of them would walk away unchanged.

Some monsters, once awakened, never went back to sleep.

---