Ezra didn't sleep that night.
Not because of the noise—the city had its usual 3 a.m. soundtrack of distant sirens, motorcycle engines, and the occasional shattering glass—but because his mind replayed every second of the alley. The way Kai's grip had turned the other man rigid. The calm voice that had been somehow worse than shouting.
And Mara's face.
She hadn't looked shocked. She hadn't looked impressed, either. She'd looked… like she'd seen it a hundred times before.
By dawn, Ezra was still staring at the ceiling, the shadows on the wall stretching with the light.
The café was slow the next morning, but Ezra felt wrung out. His co-worker, Jules, noticed.
"You look like you crawled out of a grave," Jules said, sliding him a cup of coffee.
Ezra sipped it without a smile. "Thanks for the poetry."
"You okay?" Jules asked, watching him too closely.
Ezra wanted to say no. But Kai had told him to keep his mouth shut unless asked directly—and this didn't feel like a question he could answer honestly.
"I'm fine," Ezra lied.
It was almost closing when Mara appeared. She didn't bother with pleasantries, just leaned against the counter like she owned the place.
"You free tonight?" she asked.
Ezra glanced at the clock. "Depends on why."
"Because Darius wants to talk to you. Alone."
Ezra's grip tightened on the coffee mug he was rinsing. "Why?"
She smirked. "You'll find out. Wear something you can move in."
At 9:00 p.m., Mara drove him to a part of the city Ezra had never seen before. It wasn't just run-down—it was abandoned. Warehouses with broken windows loomed on either side, their empty spaces like open mouths.
She stopped in front of one and killed the engine. "Inside," she said, nodding toward a rusted metal door.
Ezra pushed it open and stepped into darkness. The air smelled faintly of oil and something metallic. A single bare bulb flickered overhead, and in the center of the room, Darius was waiting.
He looked the same as before—broad shoulders, weathered face—but there was no trace of friendliness in his expression now.
"Close the door," Darius said.
Ezra obeyed.
Darius walked over to a table against the wall. Laid out on it were three objects: a switchblade, a pair of gloves, and a small envelope.
"You know what Kai is," Darius said. "You've seen it up close now. But seeing is easy. Surviving in his world isn't."
Ezra stayed silent.
"That envelope," Darius continued, nodding toward it, "has a name. And an address. I want you to go there, talk to the guy, and get something back from him. No violence unless he starts it."
Ezra frowned. "Why me?"
"Because Kai says you're worth the risk," Darius said bluntly. "I'm not so sure."
Ezra looked at the table again. "And if I say no?"
Darius shrugged. "Then you'll still walk out of here. But you won't be invited back."
Ezra thought about the wooden box, about the faces inside it. He thought about how Kai had looked at him last night, as if his decision had already been made.
He picked up the envelope. "Fine."
The address led him to a crumbling apartment block on the edge of the docks. The hallways smelled of mildew, and the lights overhead buzzed weakly.
Apartment 3B.
Ezra knocked.
The door opened just enough to reveal a man in his late thirties, with watery eyes and a three-day beard. His gaze swept over Ezra suspiciously. "Yeah?"
Ezra kept his voice steady. "I'm here for what you took."
The man's face went still. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Ezra pulled the gloves from his pocket and slipped them on, more for effect than for warmth. "You want to try that again?"
For a moment, the man's jaw worked. Then he stepped aside, muttering, "Wait here."
Ezra stayed in the doorway, scanning the room—a cramped space with peeling wallpaper, a couch that had seen better decades, and a TV playing static.
The man returned with a small black case and set it on the counter. "Tell Darius I'm done. No more favors."
Ezra picked up the case. "I'll tell him you said that."
By the time he got back to the warehouse, Darius was waiting outside, leaning against Mara's car.
"You didn't open it?" Darius asked.
"No," Ezra said.
Darius studied him for a long moment, then took the case. "Good. That's lesson two—curiosity can get you killed."
Mara looked at Ezra, and for the first time, there was something like approval in her eyes. "You did okay."
Ezra almost smiled, but then Darius added, "But okay isn't enough in this world. Kai won't protect you forever."
Ezra felt the words settle on him like cold rain. He'd passed whatever this was—but it didn't feel like victory.
When they dropped him off near his apartment, the streets were unusually quiet. Ezra walked slowly, scanning the shadows out of habit now.
Halfway up the block, he saw movement. A figure leaning against a lamppost, smoking.
Kai.
He didn't say hello, just gestured for Ezra to come closer.
"You went," Kai said.
"Didn't realize I had much of a choice," Ezra replied.
Kai's lips curved in a faint, unreadable smile. "There's always a choice. You just have to decide what you're willing to live with afterward."
They stood there for a while, the smoke from Kai's cigarette curling into the cold air.
Then Kai flicked the cigarette away and said, "Come by tomorrow. There's more to do."
Ezra should have felt dread. But what he felt instead was something far more dangerous—curiosity.