The rain continued to pelt the city. The storm raged; it was as if the heavens themselves were angry and wanted to wash the city clean. As Detective Stone approached Gwen's apartment building, he noticed three figures standing outside in the rain — two men and a woman. He instantly knew who they were: the Moirai family. Scott, Dale, and Jane — one of the few families not yet driven into hiding. They were also one of the few he had never managed to bring down. Still, his arrival years ago had forced them into a quieter line of work, if they wanted to stay free.
"Good morning, Scott, Dale, Jane. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Scott, the eldest, was tall and wiry, his hair white with age. He carried himself like a man used to endurance. Dale, six inches shorter, was rounder — the kind of man who loved food and laughter more than he ever loved discipline. His raven hair was slicked back, a toothpick forever in his mouth. Their sister Jane stood between them, her purple-dyed hair tied into a bun. Despite their differences, their resemblance was unmistakable.
Their clothes were streaked with grease, tomato sauce, and sweat — work uniforms from their pizzeria — except for Jane, who wore a pale blue blouse under her apron.
"Detective Stone," Scott said, his tone even, "these events have left us troubled. This wasn't supposed to happen."
"Can we talk inside? Out of the rain?" Stone's coat was drenched through. The three of them, however, were bone dry. It was as if the storm refused to touch them.
Scott gave no answer, only turned and walked away.
"We're leaving," Dale said, flicking his toothpick to the ground. "But you should know — this isn't the path that was set forward. Someone's breaking the rules."
"Everything could come undone," Jane warned softly. "The families. The city. All of it."
Stone's jaw tightened.
{Three of the five remaining free families… all tied to Gwen Greene. She has powerful friends.}
---
11:00 p.m. — Gwen's Apartment
Two uniformed officers stood guard outside. As Stone approached, they straightened up immediately. His reputation preceded him — he was known as the man who never bent the rules.
"Detective Stone," one greeted, lifting the yellow crime-scene tape.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of blood and rain. CSI was already at work — the same two technicians from the alley case. James was taking photos; Oscar, crouched near the broken vase, was carefully bagging fragments.
"Detective Stone, pleasure to see you again," Oscar said, glancing up.
"Hello, Oscar."
Stone's tone was measured. Few people noticed it, but that was his version of warmth. "What can you tell me?"
Oscar sighed. "It's the damnedest thing. No prints, no footprints, no scuff marks — whoever did this was a professional."
Stone crouched by the bloodstained floor, his coat brushing the tile. "I'm not surprised. But I'm more interested in why."
Oscar handed him a pair of shoe covers. "You planning to walk around?"
"Always." Stone slipped the covers over his shoes, then began his slow circuit of Gwen's home.
Everything was neat — too neat. No overturned furniture, no signs of struggle beyond the broken vase. The kitchen was spotless, the kind of clean that suggested it was rarely used. The bedroom told a different story — two laundry baskets, one full of folded clothes, one not. The bed unmade. A towel crumpled on the bathroom floor. The curtains whipped violently in the storm; the window was open, rain spilling in.
Stone crossed the room, eyes narrowing at a faint smear on the glass — a trace of black ash. He brushed it gently with a gloved hand. It clung to the latex like soot, but colder somehow. He wiped it away and closed the window.
{If I can't contain this, chaos will follow. But why her? Why now? After all these years…}
---
11:30 p.m. — Saint James Hospital
The hospital was eerily quiet — only the hum and beep of machines broke the silence. Bai had fallen asleep on a couch near the nurses' station. William sat nearby, watching the storm through the window. Lightning crawled across the sky like veins of fire.
The officer posted outside Gwen's room sat reading a newspaper — to the untrained eye, relaxed. But William knew better. His senses were alert. Stone had, at least, kept his promise and sent a proper man.
Then a thunderclap shook the building. Bai was on his feet instantly, joining William at the window. They exchanged a glance — no words needed. The storm wasn't just weather anymore. The air shifted; something was coming.
The officer — Cain — folded his paper and stood, tension in his posture. Even the passing nurse could feel the chill.
"Ms. Brollachan is still nearby," Bai murmured.
William nodded. Between the four of them, Gwen was safe — for now.
Another flash. A shadow flickered atop the bus stop outside, gone in a blink. In that same blink, William vanished from the hallway and reappeared across the street, standing in the rain.
{Faster than I thought,} he muttered.
Bai watched from the window, unflinching. Cain stood beside him now, silent, his hand resting near his holster. The man radiated quiet strength — not the kind forged in the academy, but the kind born of survival.
Lightning split the sky again. When it cleared, William was back at the window, dripping wet.
"You're soaked," Bai said flatly.
"Yup."
{Got wet all for nothing.} Bai's thought carried mild irritation, though his expression never changed.
Cain gave a huff and returned to his seat. The danger had passed — for now. But the exchange had revealed truths on both sides: the attacker's speed, William's ability to blink through space. A stalemate of power.
"Did you see it?" Bai asked.
William shook his head. "No. But not for nothing," he said aloud, glancing at Gwen. "For her."
Bai followed his gaze.
{Two sisters, not by blood, but bound all the same.}
William smiled faintly.
{Yes… family.}
For the first time in years, the word didn't sting.
---
12:00 a.m. — 10th Precinct Rooftop
The city roared below. Detective Stone stood on the rooftop, hands in his coat pockets, staring into the dark horizon. He missed silence — the kind you only find far from the city's heartbeat.
He weighed his options:
Wait for the attacker to strike again, or seek out the Moirais. Both choices reeked of danger. The families were bound by fragile truces, and this new violence threatened to undo it all.
---
12:01 a.m. — Scott & Dale's Family Pizzeria
In all his years, few things could shock Detective Stone. But this did.
The pizzeria was engulfed in flames, the neon sign flickering its last light before melting into darkness. Firefighters rushed back and forth, their shouts drowned by the hiss of steam and rain.
{The bastard knew I'd come here. Which means they're either powerful — or incredibly stupid.}
He slipped his badge from his coat, the golden shield glinting in the firelight, and stepped forward into the chaos.
---
End of Chapter 9