Ezra didn't see Kai for three days.
In a city like this, three days felt longer than it should—especially when the absence was deliberate. Ezra knew enough now to recognize that Kai wasn't just busy. He was waiting. Testing something. Maybe testing him.
The days crawled by in the strange rhythm that came after you learned too much about someone and could never quite unlearn it. Ezra worked his shifts at the café, answered customers with automatic politeness, and tried not to think about headlines or hardware stores shuttered without warning.
On the third afternoon, the quiet broke.
"Ezra."
It was soft, but it cut through the clink of mugs and hiss of the espresso machine like glass snapping. He turned, heart already in his throat. Kai was leaning against the counter, dressed in black again, sleeves rolled just enough to show the tendons in his forearms. There was something different about him today—his smile was smaller, but sharper.
"Break's in ten minutes," Ezra said, because he didn't trust himself to say anything else.
Kai nodded, eyes flicking briefly to the other customers, reading the room in a way that was almost predatory. "I'll wait."
When Ezra finally joined him outside, the air was crisp, still carrying the faint scent of roasted beans from the café. They stood under the overhang, watching the street. Kai's hands were in his pockets, but Ezra could feel the tension radiating off him.
"You've been quiet," Kai said.
"So have you," Ezra replied. "Guess we're both avoiding something."
Kai tilted his head, studying him. "I don't avoid. I watch."
"That's… somehow worse," Ezra muttered.
Kai smirked faintly, then pulled something small from his pocket—a folded slip of paper. "You should come to this tonight."
Ezra hesitated before taking it. The address was scrawled in neat, deliberate handwriting, along with a time: 11:30 p.m.
"What is it?"
Kai leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a low murmur. "A test. You'll understand if you show up. And if you don't—" He paused, eyes locking on Ezra's with unsettling stillness. "—then I'll know exactly where you stand."
Before Ezra could answer, Kai stepped back, gave him a curt nod, and walked away.
The rest of Ezra's shift dragged like wet clothes clinging to his skin. He thought about crumpling the paper and tossing it in the bin more times than he could count, but his hand never quite obeyed. By the time he was home, the note was still in his pocket, burning against his thigh.
No one had called or texted all day, and the apartment was too quiet. He tried reading, tried music, even tried cooking, but everything felt like killing time until a decision he didn't want to make.
At 11:10, he found himself in front of the mirror, pulling on his jacket.
The address led him to a narrow street on the east side, where the buildings leaned in too close, their shadows swallowing the pavement. The place Kai had written down looked like an abandoned carpentry workshop—dusty windows, faded sign, a padlock hanging loose.
Ezra was about to knock when he heard footsteps behind him.
"You're early."
It was Mara, Kai's right-hand in all but name. She wore a leather jacket, her dark hair pulled back in a rough braid, and there was a glint in her eyes that was half amusement, half warning.
"I wasn't sure what I was walking into," Ezra admitted.
"That's the point," Mara said, unlocking the door. "But don't worry—you're not here for what you think."
Inside, the air smelled faintly of sawdust and oil. Workbenches lined the walls, covered in tools that looked untouched for years. A single bulb cast a pool of yellow light in the center, where Kai stood, talking to a man Ezra didn't recognize—mid-forties, graying at the temples, with hands that looked like they'd seen their share of fights.
Kai looked up. "You came."
Ezra shrugged. "Guess I was curious."
The older man glanced at him, then at Kai. "This the one?"
"This is him," Kai said. Then to Ezra: "Meet Darius. He handles… situations."
Ezra frowned. "What kind of situations?"
Kai ignored the question and walked toward one of the workbenches. He picked up a small wooden box, the kind you might find tucked away in someone's attic. He set it on the table between them and opened it. Inside were photos—some black-and-white, some newer—faces Ezra didn't recognize.
"This," Kai said quietly, "is history. Every face here has tried to cross me, my people, or my rules. Some of them are still breathing. Some aren't."
Ezra's stomach tightened. "And you're showing me this because…?"
"Because tonight," Kai said, "you'll decide if you're going to be on the outside looking in… or if you're going to be part of something you can't walk away from."
Mara stepped forward then, holding a slim folder. "Don't overthink it. Just watch, listen, and keep your mouth shut unless you're spoken to."
Darius gestured toward the back door. "We've got a meeting in ten."
Ezra followed them out into the night, the air colder now. They moved quickly down an alley, stopping behind another building where two men were waiting. Words were exchanged—low, tense. Ezra couldn't catch all of it, but he caught enough: debt, shipment, betrayal.
When one of the men tried to walk away, Kai's hand shot out, gripping his arm with the kind of force that wasn't just physical—it was final. The man froze.
"You think you can disappear on me?" Kai's voice was calm, but each word was edged like glass. "You think I won't notice?"
The man stammered something about misunderstanding, but Kai didn't let go. Instead, he leaned in, said something too low for Ezra to hear, and then released him abruptly.
The man stumbled back, nodded furiously, and left without another word.
Ezra's pulse was racing, but he kept his expression neutral.
Kai turned to him. "Lesson one," he said. "Fear is more reliable than trust."
They walked back to the workshop in silence. Inside, Kai closed the wooden box and locked it.
"You showed up," he said. "That's the first step. Whether you take the second is up to you."
Ezra wanted to say something—anything—but the weight of what he'd just seen pressed against his tongue. In the end, he only nodded.
Kai smiled faintly, as if that was answer enough.