Marked From The Shadows.

Conner

“You look like you haven’t slept.” Liam steps into my office and pulls the door shut behind him. The click lands sharply in the quiet. “Maybe that’s because I feckin haven’t.” I lean back in my chair, roll my head once, then scrub a hand down my face. My eyes burn. My jaw aches. Inferno replays behind my eyes whether I let it or not. “I saw her last night at the club.” Liam stops short. His brows shoot up. “Who? Your ghost girl?”

“Yeah.”

“And?” He throws his hands up, pacing a step, then another, knocking the edge of my desk with his hip, making papers slide out of place. “You can’t just drop that and stop.”

“And nothing.” I let my head fall back against the chair. “She was there one second and gone the next.”

“Jesus.” He drags a hand through his hair and laughs once. “You need a hobby. Or better yet, a woman. A real one. You haven’t had a girl in what, years?”

“Yeah.” I sit forward, elbows on my knees. “The few I have gotten close with somehow disappear off the face of the earth.” The words hang between us. Liam grins anyway. “Maybe your ghost’s taking them out.” He laughs loudly, amused by his joke, but I don’t move. The sound dies in his throat. He looks at me again, really looks this time. “You don’t actually think she’s doing that, do you?” I swivel my chair toward the window. The city beyond the glass feels too open, too exposed. I reach out and snap the blinds shut. The room dims. “I’m not saying she definitely is,” I say. “But she’s everywhere, Liam. Every corner. Every blind spot. No one’s that consistent without having eyes everywhere, all the time.” I turn back to him. “It’s a bloody pattern. I get to know a lady, and before it can go further than a day, I never see them again.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind.”

“Have I?” I push to my feet and gesture behind me at the wall of monitors showing Inferno, the warehouse, the hall outside this office. “Every time something breaks, she’s already ahead of it. Every time I get close, she vanishes. It’s like she knows what’s happening before it happens.” I shake my head once. “Last night she left me a napkin with a message in lipstick with a warning that I’m slipping. What does that even mean?” Liam’s gaze drifts around the room, to the corners and the ceiling. His voice drops. “You think she bugged this place?”

I don’t answer right away, but I move slowly. I check the bookshelf and run my fingers along the vent slats. I crouch and glance under the desk. Of course, I don’t find anything, because even if she did bug this place, she’s too smart to leave them anywhere I would find. “Maybe,” I say finally. “She’s careful. If I were her, I’d listen in here.” Liam hasn’t moved; he’s still staring at every crack in the wall. “Relax.” I grab my jacket from the chair and shrug into it. “We’ll do a full sweep later. Right now, we’ve got the docks to deal with.” He swallows hard. “If she’s listening, she already knows we’re going.” My hand closes around the door handle. “Then I hope she’s in the mood for blood,” I say. “Because I am.”

The engine hums low as we cut through the city. It’s a little too quiet for a Thursday night. Streetlights slide past the windshield in long yellow streaks. There’s barely any traffic, and I haven’t seen one cop car. I keep one hand on the wheel, the other taps against my thigh without rhythm. Liam sits still beside me, eyes tracking storefronts, alleys, and rooftops. “You feel it?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He shifts in his seat. “No cops. No noise.”

“Did Marco call ahead?” I ask.

“An hour ago. He said the shipment was delayed, but they’re unloading now.” He snorts. “He doesn’t know I’d already checked the manifests.”

“So he’s skimming.” I grip the wheel harder.

“Unless someone bigger’s involved.” He exhales through his nose. “But yeah. Small cuts, repacked goods and fake orders.”

“We end that tonight,” I tell him, and he nods.

Liam glances over. “You sure this isn’t about her?”

“No, she wouldn’t do all this shit for me just to be fucking with my shipments.”

We turn off the main road, and the docks rise out of the fog, metal shapes half-swallowed by mist. Streetlights flicker or don’t turn on at all. My foot eases off the gas.

“Something’s wrong,” I say, feeling uneasy.

“You want to pull back?” Liam asks, already reaching for his gun.

“No.” I’m not the kind to back down. Warehouse Nine sits at the end of the road. I pull the car up slowly, park, and we step out. The silence presses in around us. It’s too quiet. That’s all I think before I hear metal click. “DOWN!” I grab Liam and shove him behind a stack of crates as the shot rips through the wood where his head was a second ago. “Ambush!” he yells. Three figures peel out of the dark, masks on and rifles in hand. I fire back in short, controlled bursts. Liam swears beside me, scrambling lower. “They were waiting!” Which means someone talked. A sharp whistle slices through the noise, and the lead shooter stiffens before he drops. “Sniper!” Liam shouts. “No.” My chest tightens. “Not a sniper.” Another shot rings out, and the second man folds before he can lift his weapon. I rise just enough to see her. High across the yard, perched in the skeleton of a half-built crane, hood up and still as stone. The scope flashes once under the moon.

The third man turns to run, but the next shot takes his leg out from under him. He hits the ground screaming, but alive. Liam stares. “What the fuck…”

“That’s my girl,” I say. “She knew.” I look back at the crane, but it’s empty now. “She saved us,” Liam breathes. My fingers slide into my coat pocket and brush the folded napkin. Come on, sweetheart. You can’t just edge me like that and leave me hanging.