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Scene 1: Abandoned Parking Garage — 2:11 AM
The flick of a lighter broke the silence. Then a whoosh of flame.
Nathan Voss stood barefoot in a circle of gasoline, shirtless, eyes bloodshot. A half-burned mannequin hung upside down behind him, wearing a judge's robe and a paper sign stapled to its chest:
> "HE LET THEM GO."
He lit a match. Dropped it.
The fire roared to life, engulfing the mannequin. Flames licked the concrete, dancing toward the message he'd smeared on the wall in blood:
> "DO I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, ELIAS?"
Voss stepped back, watching the inferno with childish glee. His hands shook with excitement. And maybe something else. Fear? No — anticipation.
Voss (whispering to the fire):
"Call me a psycho again. I dare you."
He vanished into the shadows before the sirens could arrive.
---
Scene 2: Crime Scene — 3:47 AM
Detective Marcus Heller stood before the smoldering remains. Police lights painted the world red and blue. The scene was cordoned off, but no one was touching anything — not yet. Not while Heller was still reading the scene like scripture.
He crouched. Noted the melted ID tag under the mannequin.
Heller (to himself):
"Judge Dorian Grey. Cleared a cartel hitman last week. Crowe's case."
He stood slowly, eyes narrowing.
Heller (to officer nearby):
"Get me every name Elias Crowe has defended in the last two years. And the judges on those cases."
Officer:
"You think this was personal?"
Heller:
"I think the city's bleeding and we're still arguing about which knife did it."
He lit a cigarette. Looked east, toward Crowe's penthouse.
Heller (internal):
Let's see if the spider noticed the tremor in his web.
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Scene 3: Back Alley — Same Night
A single streetlight flickered above the body. A man in his 30s, no ID, face twisted in terror. A strange mark carved into his wrist — deliberate. Clean.
Madeline Crane stepped back, gloves on, blade wiped. Her breath fogged in the cold air, calm and unhurried.
She tucked the knife into her coat.
She left behind a Polaroid photograph: a much younger Elias Crowe in law school. Arms around two fellow students.
One of them was the man now lying dead.
On the back of the photo:
> "Tell Elias: I remember everything."
She walked away without looking back, heels echoing like a metronome counting down something inevitable.
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Scene 4: Iris Quinn's Apartment — 9:02 AM
The article was up. Front page. Digital and physical.
> "THE ATTORNEY WHO DEFENDS THE DAMNED"
By Iris Quinn.
The backlash was instant. Threats, praise, legal notices, invitations to morning shows.
She ignored it all — except the knock on her door.
She peered through the peephole.
Nothing.
Just an envelope taped to her door. No name.
Inside: the Polaroid Maddie left at the murder scene.
And a post-it note:
> "You were right. Keep going."
Iris stared at the photo, heart racing.
Iris (murmuring):
"You knew him. Didn't you, Crowe?"
She reached for her recorder again.
Iris (into mic):
"Update. Someone's sending me clues. Directly. I think... I think I'm part of the game now."
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Scene 5: Crowe's Penthouse — That Night
Crowe read the article, sipping wine, unmoved. He clicked his remote — changed the screen to surveillance footage of the murder scene. He rewound. Played it again. Froze the frame.
The photo.
The carved wrist.
The shadow of a woman in a long coat.
Crowe (softly, amused):
"Madeline... You still remember that night, don't you?"
Another buzz on his phone. Another encrypted message. Another demand.
The police commissioner wanted Crowe's help — publicly. Wanted him on a city panel to address legal corruption. Clean image. Political pressure. Public trust.
He smiled.
Crowe:
"Invite me into the house just as I'm setting it on fire."
He clicked his tongue. Closed his laptop. Looked out at the city again — still burning, but not yet collapsing.
Crowe (to himself):
"Time to test which rats know they're on a sinking ship."
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END OF CHAPTER 2
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(PREVIEW)
Chapter 3 — "Dead Air"
> Iris follows the lead too deep. Heller confronts Crowe. Voss escalates again — this time at someone Crowe cares about.