[Devil's Ledger — Week 1]
Quota: 0 / 1 (Due: Sunday 11:59 p.m.)
Perk on Completion: Signature Dish slot unlocked
Warning: Collateral Clause reminder
Jax Romano had followed worse men before.
Back in his old life, he'd learned how to read habits—who smoked when nervous, who checked their rearview twice, who always carried something they couldn't lose.
It came back to him faster than he liked.
He trailed Vincenzo Rullo through the late-afternoon streets, keeping two cars back, watching the landlord's shiny black sedan slide through puddles like a shark.
The Ledger had been right about the smell.
Even with the window cracked, Jax could taste it in the air—a sour metallic stench that clung to his tongue. Like greed made physical.
Rullo stopped at a tenement building in Queens. The kind with rusted fire escapes and peeling paint that landlords forgot until winter.
Jax parked a block away.
He stayed in the car, watching.
Rullo stepped out, immaculate in a cream suit, shoes too clean for the neighborhood. Two men followed him, both thick around the shoulders, both carrying clipboards they didn't need.
They walked in.
Screams weren't audible, but the rhythm of the gestures through the window said enough.
A mother arguing. A man pleading. A child's hand pulling a curtain closed.
Jax's jaw tightened.
Kazimir hadn't exaggerated.
When Rullo came back out, smiling like he'd just tipped a waiter, Jax started the engine.
He followed at a crawl until the sedan stopped again—this time at a warehouse by the docks.
He parked in the shadows and waited for dusk.
The air stank of salt and oil. Cargo cranes loomed like skeletons against the fading sky.
He could hear muffled laughter inside, the clinking of bottles.
He checked the time. Saturday, 8:43 p.m.
Less than a day before the deadline.
The Ledger on the passenger seat twitched.
A faint line appeared across its cover, glowing like a pulse.
He opened it.
Rullo's essence active. Extraction possible. Witness consequence.
Jax swallowed.
He didn't know what "extraction" meant, not really. But the word witness made it sound like something that wouldn't wait.
He slipped on gloves and stepped into the dark.
The warehouse door was half open.
Inside, a single bulb swung overhead, throwing arcs of yellow light across the floor.
Rullo sat on a crate, smoking a cigar, talking into his phone.
Jax stayed behind a stack of barrels, close enough to hear the edges of the conversation.
"…tell them I don't care. If they miss another payment, throw them out. It's cheaper to burn the building than fix it."
He laughed, a short, ugly sound.
Jax's pulse pounded in his ears.
He knew that laugh. He'd heard it from men who thought pain was leverage.
His hand brushed the knife in his coat pocket. He hadn't planned to use it. He still didn't.
He only needed a confession. Something undeniable.
He pulled out his phone, hit record, and stepped into the light.
Rullo turned.
For a heartbeat, confusion crossed his face. Then recognition.
"Romano. My star tenant."
Jax kept his tone level. "You've been bleeding people dry, Vince. Time to stop."
Rullo stood, smirking. "What's this, a citizen's arrest?"
"Just a conversation."
"Then drop the camera."
Jax didn't. "Say it again. About burning the building."
Rullo's grin faltered. "You've lost it, kid."
Behind him, one of the enforcers moved—a shadow separating from the wall.
Jax turned the camera toward him. "You want to explain the missing tenants, too?"
The man froze, caught in the red blink of the record light.
Rullo stepped forward, voice lower. "You don't know who you're playing with."
"Maybe not," Jax said. "But I know what you are."
He backed toward the door.
Rullo lunged.
The phone clattered to the ground. The two men grabbed Jax's arms.
He twisted free, slammed an elbow into one, ducked another swing.
No killing, he told himself. No killing.
He snatched the dropped phone, hit upload, and sent the video to every contact tagged under press from his restaurant's mailing list.
The screen flashed Sent.
Outside, sirens began faint and distant.
Rullo's eyes widened.
"What did you—"
Then the bulb above them exploded.
The air turned cold.
A pressure built behind Jax's ribs, pulling the breath out of him.
Something unseen stirred, a vibration low enough to feel but not hear.
Rullo staggered back, coughing, clutching his chest.
A faint shimmer rose from his body—gray and oily, curling upward like smoke.
Kazimir stepped from the shadows behind him.
He looked entirely at ease, hands clasped behind his back.
"Efficient, Chef," he said softly. "You served consequence beautifully."
"What's happening?" Jax asked, voice tight.
"Essence extraction," Kazimir said. "Don't look away."
Rullo dropped to his knees.
He wasn't dying—just convulsing, eyes wide with sudden clarity. The shimmer peeled from him completely now, forming a delicate mist that hung in the air.
Kazimir held out a crystal vial. The mist poured inside, silent, clean, almost graceful.
Then it was over.
Rullo slumped to the floor, breathing shallow but alive.
Police sirens screamed closer.
Kazimir corked the vial, holding it up to the light. Inside, the essence glowed faint red.
"Not pure," he murmured. "But sufficient."
Jax stared, pulse racing. "You said I wouldn't have to—"
"You didn't. He's alive."
"What about that?" Jax gestured toward the vial.
"Condensed wickedness," Kazimir said. "Distilled regret. It will season your next dish like nothing else."
He slipped the vial into Jax's hand. "Congratulations, Chef. Your city is on the menu."
By the time the police arrived, Kazimir was gone.
The officers found Rullo groaning on the ground, muttering about nightmares and smoke.
They never noticed Jax in the shadows of the alley, watching as they hauled the man away.
He slipped out through the back, the vial burning faintly in his pocket.
Back at Romano's, the kitchen felt different.
Lighter. Charged.
He set the vial on the counter. The glow lit the tiles faintly pink.
He unscrewed it and let a single drop fall into a pot of simmering sauce.
The aroma spread instantly—sweet, dark, magnetic.
He tasted it.
Flavor flooded every nerve in his body. Layers upon layers—tomato, smoke, earth, a strange sweetness like sin remembered fondly.
He gasped, dizzy.
He could see the molecules in motion, the precise balance of everything he'd ever ruined before.
When the rush passed, he realized his hands were shaking.
He capped the vial again and put it away.
The Ledger on the counter flipped open.
Across the page, new text appeared in bright scarlet:
Quota 1 / 1 — Complete.
Underneath, a new line: Signature Dish Slot Unlocked.
And beneath that, faint and smaller: Collateral clause active upon breach.
Jax closed the book quickly.
He didn't want to know what that meant.
He cleaned the counters, wiped down the stove, and tried to breathe like a normal person again.
The rain outside had stopped. The street was quiet.
He poured himself a glass of water and sat at the empty table.
He thought about Rullo. About the way the essence had left him, quiet and clean. About how part of Jax had enjoyed watching it happen.
He hated that thought.
He stared at his reflection in the stainless steel until the face blurred.
Finally, he said aloud, "One and done."
The Ledger rustled, as if amused.
A faint whisper brushed the back of his mind.
One, yes. For now.
He turned off the lights and left the kitchen, but even in the dark he could see it—the faint red glow of the vial pulsing like a heartbeat.