Chapter 24: The Ghosts of the Game
Jesse sat in his office at the warehouse, staring at the white card.
We see you.
Three simple words, but they carried weight. Someone had been watching. Someone knew what he was doing.
And that meant they were either a threat… or an opportunity.
Mike sat across from him, arms crossed, watching him closely. "We need to assume whoever sent this isn't playing around."
Jesse exhaled through his nose, flipping the card over. Nothing on the back. No hidden marks. Just a plain, professional threat.
"What's the play?" Mike asked.
Jesse tapped his fingers against the desk. "We let them think we're not worried. If they wanted us dead, they'd have done it. This? This is a message. They want something."
Mike nodded. "You want me to put out feelers?"
Jesse smirked. "Nah. Let's see if they come to us."
Because if they were watching, they'd make their move soon.
And when they did, Jesse would be ready.
Hank's Suspicion Grows
Hank stood outside the DEA office, sipping his coffee as he stared at the latest case files.
The blue meth was back. That much was clear.
What wasn't clear was who was running the show.
He had followed the leads on the cartel remnants, but none of them added up. The product was too refined. Too controlled.
This wasn't some back-alley cook working out of a trailer.
This was professional.
And the more he thought about it, the more one name kept coming back to him.
Jesse Pinkman.
Hank had always assumed Jesse was just a small-time punk, a kid in over his head. But now?
Now he wasn't so sure.
Maybe he had underestimated him.
Maybe Jesse Pinkman had been the real mastermind all along.
And if that was true…
Then Hank wasn't just hunting a dealer.
He was hunting a kingpin.
The Meeting
Jesse didn't have to wait long.
Two days after receiving the card, he got a message. A private number. A single line of text.
We should talk.
Jesse responded with an address—a neutral location, a high-end restaurant with enough security to make sure nothing got messy.
When the time came, he walked in alone. No Mike. No backup.
Because this wasn't about intimidation.
It was about control.
The man waiting for him was older, dressed in an expensive suit, his posture relaxed but calculating. The kind of guy who had seen everything and survived.
Jesse sat down, meeting his gaze. "You've got my attention."
The man smiled. "That's good. Because we've been watching for a while."
Jesse leaned back, keeping his expression neutral. "Who's 'we'?"
The man steepled his fingers. "Let's just say… we're in the same business. And your expansion? It's stepping into our territory."
Jesse's jaw tightened. So that was it.
Not a warning. Not a threat.
A negotiation.
"And what do you want?" Jesse asked.
The man smiled. "A partnership."
The NZT Balance
That night, Jesse sat in his penthouse, turning the NZT vial between his fingers.
The meeting had gone well. The new player—Victor Martinez—wasn't a cartel leader. He was a businessman, operating in high-end markets Jesse hadn't even considered yet.
The kind of guy who didn't get his hands dirty.
The kind of guy who could take Jesse's empire to the next level.
But Jesse needed to be sure.
Which meant thinking clearly.
Without the NZT.
He placed the vial back in the case and closed it. Tonight, he wouldn't take it. He needed to prove to himself that he could still play the game on his own.
And if he couldn't?
Then maybe he wasn't the one in control after all.