The warehouse was cold and empty. Gian Kayne sat on a broken chair, his hands still aching from the rooftop fight. The thug's last words would not leave his head:
"The one you trust will kill you."
The door opened fast. Rico ran inside, sweat on his face.
"Boss! Someone came to our turf. He left this for you."
Rico held out a folded paper.
Gian took it. The writing was sharp, messy, and red—like blood.
"Your wings will burn. Your crown will fall. Gormon City will spit out its false angel."
Gian's eyes narrowed. "Who gave this to you?"
Rico hesitated. His voice was shaky. "I didn't see his face… but his clothes… black robes. Same man from the bar, I think."
The words hit Gian hard. The same shadow. The same figure always one step ahead.
He looked at the letter again, then crushed it in his hand. The paper crumpled, but the message felt heavy, carved into his mind.
"They want me gone," Gian said quietly. "And they won't stop until they get it."
Rico stepped closer. "What do we do?"
Gian dropped the letter into a rusty barrel and lit a match. Flames rose, eating the words, but not the threat.
"We wait," Gian said. "Whoever hides in the dark will show his face. And when he does…"
His voice trailed off. The fire crackled. Outside, the city lights flickered as if the whole of Gormon City was holding its breath.
For the first time, Gian Kayne felt that the streets he protected were slowly turning against him.