Adrian Kells walked like he owned the building.
A sleek gray suit, hair perfectly styled, the permanent half-smile of a man who knew he could get away with anything. He stood in the courthouse elevator with three staffers from the DA's office. None of them spoke. None dared look him in the eye.
He wasn't a criminal. Not officially.
He was a contractor—linked to government programs so classified, even their nicknames were redacted. But off the record? Whispers tied him to experimental detention centers, off-grid testing labs, and "black budget" projects that bled into organized crime.
Elias had seen him in court twice.
He'd walked both times.
At the same time, across the street from the courthouse, she waited.
Lana Mirek.
Freelance reporter. Investigative. Unafraid.
She had a voice like whiskey and static—rough, tired, alive. Her car was parked crooked. Her jacket smelled like smoke. And her camera bag sat at her side like a weapon.
She sipped cheap coffee, eyes locked on the courthouse steps.
"Kells is back in town," she muttered, recording herself. "Moving bold. Like he knows nobody's watching."
She clicked through the files on her tablet. Photos. Interviews. Financial records. Her last source had disappeared three days ago.
She'd tried getting an interview with Judge Ward once.
He hadn't responded.
But maybe that was okay.
Because Lana wasn't after the courts. She was after Kells.
And tonight, she was going to follow him.
🕧 11:17 PM – The Wrong Shadow
Lana had a talent for blending in.
She trailed Adrian through the industrial zone. He moved with no entourage, no security—just his briefcase and a phone call that lasted fifteen minutes. He didn't notice her. Or so she thought.
He entered a warehouse with shattered windows and reinforced doors. Lana waited seven minutes, then slipped in through the side.
Inside: dim lights, steel tables, crates, cages.
And a sound she couldn't quite place. Something wet. Something low.
She raised her camera.
Snap.
Then the lights cut out.
She froze.
Her breath showed in the air. The temperature dropped like a body in water. A voice whispered behind her—not Kells's. Something else.
Then came the sound of metal boots.
She turned.
Kells stood in front of her, one hand gloved, the other soaked in blood.
"Curious little thing," he said, almost kindly. "They always are."
Lana reached for her phone.
She never made it.
☁️ 3:06 AM – The Pull
Elias shot awake.
The air in his room had changed. The pressure inside his skull returned—worse this time. A scream echoed somewhere deep in his bones.
He saw a vision of red light. Concrete. A woman's body crumpled next to a shattered camera. Her eyes wide. Her mouth frozen.
He didn't know her name.
But the Mandate did.
"A soul cried for justice," the voice whispered.
"You did not hear it."
"The debt remains."
His hands shook. His palm burned.
The sword pulsed.
A name bled into the darkness of his mind:
Adrian Kells.