The rain had not stopped.
Harvey sat in the passenger seat of Viktor's black van as the city blurred past, streetlights bleeding into streaks of gold against the wet glass. His hands still clutched the knife, though it had been cleaned and wrapped in cloth. It felt heavier now, as if the life it had taken still clung to the steel.
The silence between them was thick. Viktor drove without speaking, eyes fixed on the road, one scarred hand steady on the wheel. Harvey's mind replayed the moment in the warehouse again and again—the knife sinking into flesh, the man's gasp, the sudden stillness.
He wanted to believe it was over. That killing one man could balance the scales. But deep down, he knew the truth.
It was only the beginning.
The van slowed, pulling into an underground garage beneath an abandoned office building. Viktor killed the engine, the rumble echoing into silence. He stepped out, motioning for Harvey to follow.
Inside, the air was damp, the hallways lined with peeling paint and rusted pipes. They descended into a lower floor, the concrete walls tightening around them like a tomb. At the end of the corridor, Viktor unlocked a heavy steel door and pushed it open.
Harvey froze.
The room was filled with evidence.
Stacks of documents lined the tables—bank statements, legal contracts, photographs pinned to corkboards. Strings of red twine connected faces and names across maps of the city. Screens flickered with surveillance feeds. It was a spider's nest of secrets, each thread leading back to the same name.
Aldrich.
Harvey's chest tightened. His family's lawyer stared back at him from photo after photo—smiling at parties, shaking hands with politicians, sitting in restaurants with men whose faces oozed menace. In one photo, Aldrich stepped into the same black SUV Harvey remembered from the night of the crash.
"Bastard…" Harvey hissed, his fists trembling.
Viktor approached the board, pulling down one photograph and holding it out. Aldrich was standing beside a man in a military uniform, his hand extended in a firm grip.
"He's been laundering money for paramilitary groups for years," Viktor said. "Your father found out. That's why Aldrich wanted him dead."
Harvey took the photo, staring at it until his vision blurred. "And the police?"
"Bought," Viktor said flatly. "Judges too. Aldrich has the courts in his pocket. If you tried to go legal, you'd be dead before you set foot in a courtroom."
Harvey's throat burned. He slammed the photo down on the table, the paper crumpling under his fist. "So what do I do? Just keep killing?"
"You burn the web," Viktor said. He gestured to the board, the maps, the files. "One strand at a time. Cut off his allies. Strip away his protection. When he has nowhere left to hide—then you take him."
Harvey's heart pounded. He looked again at the photographs, the contracts, the bank records. All the lies that had been woven around his family, all the power that had been stolen.
Aldrich wasn't just a lawyer. He was a kingmaker, a shadow puppeteer pulling strings Harvey had never known existed. And Harvey had been nothing but a pawn in his game.
No longer.
Harvey clenched his fists until his nails dug into his skin. "Then I'll burn it all," he whispered. His voice trembled, but with fury, not fear. "Starting with him."
Viktor studied him for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—recognition, maybe even pride.
"You've taken your first step," Viktor said. "Now comes the war."
He turned, moving toward a cabinet in the corner. He opened it to reveal weapons—handguns, rifles, knives, grenades—an arsenal waiting in the shadows. He pulled out a pistol and set it on the table before Harvey.
"Tomorrow, you learn how to use this," Viktor said. His tone was not suggestion, but command.
Harvey stared at the gun. Its black surface gleamed in the light, a tool of death no different from the knife—only faster, louder, deadlier. His reflection stared back at him from the barrel.
He didn't hesitate. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the grip.
The weight was cold, heavy, real.
He lifted his eyes to Viktor. "Show me everything."
Viktor's lips curved into that dangerous smile again. He turned toward the board, tapping his finger against Aldrich's name pinned at the center of the web.
"We start here," he said. "But remember, Harvey… Aldrich is only the surface. Behind him are deeper shadows, older enemies, bloodlines that run blacker than you know."
Harvey's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Viktor didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the board, his jaw tight as if wrestling with words he wasn't ready to release. Finally, he turned back, his voice quiet but edged with steel.
"Trust me, boy. When the time comes, you'll see."
The bulb overhead flickered once, plunging the room into darkness before sparking back to life. Harvey stood still, the pistol in his hand, the faces of his enemies staring down at him from every wall.
He thought of his parents' graves. Of the wreckage. Of Aldrich's smile across their dinner table.
And in that moment, he swore a vow.
He would not stop. Not until every strand of this web was cut, every lie was burned, and Aldrich lay in the ashes.
No matter what it turned him into.