The cuts of the boat over dark water revealed the sea breeze biting into Ethan's face. In the distance burned Eastbridge City: bright, cold, and throbbing with lies. He sat next to Natalie; one hand clutched the rail, the other rested on her gun.
They did not speak for a long time. Only the sound of waves and engine noise filled the silence.
At last, she shattered it: "Whoever Ghost is, he is not just another assassin. That shot was too clean. He was sending a message."
Ethan kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Yeah. That I'm being hunted."
"Not just hunted," she said quietly. "Watched."
His nod was slow. "Then it's time I start watching back."
They arrived at a lonely inlet at the outskirts of the city. The little dock was deserted — without lights or guards. Natalie tied up the small vessel, and they glided into the shadows.
The warehouse they found nearby looked like it was old and forgotten. Ethan kicked opened the rusty door, and it was dry and silent in there-a perfect temporary base.
Natalie checked her phone. "There are no more tracker signals, at least for now."
Ethan pulled out a map from the bag and laid it on a crate. "We have to find the Red Circle before they find us."
She frowned. "Just one group?"
"No," Ethan said. "It's a network. People who want Vale's power without the code he built it on."
"Code?"
Ethan nodded. "Vale had rules. Balance. He kept crime under control — made sure no one got too greedy. The Red Circle doesn't believe in that. They want chaos."
"And Claire?" she asked cautiously. "You think she's part of it?"
His jaw tightened. "I think she knows more than she pretends."
The gray hoodie and sunglasses belonged to Ethan, who put them on to face the next day: "I'm going into the city."
Natalie looked up from her laptop. "That's not smart."
"Neither is waiting to die," he said. "I need to see an old friend."
She took a sigh. "Fine. I'll track you from here. Don't do anything stupid."
He grinned "No promises" .
Downtown Eastbridge was in full swing that day, with people rushing about, horns sounding, and money flowing. It thronged with the humanity; Ethan walked amongst them unnoticed: a shadow among the livers. He reached a small boxing gym hidden behind an alley. Inside, the smell of sweat and dust
struck him like a memory.
A tall man looked up from the ring. "Ethan Ward," he grinned. "Did not think I would see your face again."
Ethan smiled slightly. "Good to see you too, Marcus."
Marcus had almost been his best friend before prison-a former marine who'd become a trainer. He tried to come over once and Ethan pushed him away. Marcus didn't have much of a chance when it came down to protecting him.
Marcus dropped his gloves and walked over. "Heard cool gossip: you're back in town and already stirring things up."
"I guess some things never change," Ethan shrugged.
Marcus nodded. "What do you want?"
"Information. Looking for somebody-a sniper, goes by Ghost."
Marcus's grin vanished. "You don't want to find him."
"I already did," Ethan said. "He killed somebody I needed alive."
Marcus supported himself against the ropes. "Ghost works freelance. But there is talk-he's got connections to some group, called Red Circle."
"What area do they operate in, then?"
"Most of them underground," Marcus said. "But if you want one for a name-check with a guy called Mason Reed. He runs a gambling ring out of the old freight yard."
Ethan nodded. "Thanks."
"Hold on, Ethan," said Marcus, his voice low. "You're playing with fire. The Red Circle doesn't just kill; they erase."
"Then," Ethan smiled tightly, "I'll make sure they remember me."
That night, Ethan found himself at the edge of the freight yard. From then on, what you saw was a rusty container-yard, neon lights flickering from a shack in the middle. Men stood guard outside, cigarettes glowing in the dark.
He moved quietly along the shadows until he reached the shack. The air inside was thick with smoke and the sound of cards slapping a table.
There in the middle, with a heavyset body, expensive suit, and sharp eyes sat Mason Reed.
Ethan stepped inside. "Mind if I join the game?"
The guards froze. Mason looked up slowly. "You've got a lot of nerve walking in here uninvited."
Ethan produced the Phoenix Ring, holding it out to catch the faint light. "My name is Ethan Ward."
Silence reigned in the room.
Mason leaned back, his smile dropping. "The Phoenix? You are supposed to be a myth."
"I guess I didn't burn completely," Ethan said. "Now tell me what you know about the Red Circle."
Mason hesitated a moment, then nodded to his men. They left the room, closing the door behind them.
"The Red Circle runs half this city now," Mason said quietly. "Locke funds them through shell companies. But there's someone above him-a ghost. No one sees him. No one knows his real name."
Ethan crossed his arms. "Then who gives the orders?"
Mason swallowed. "They call her Iris. She's the voice of the Circle. Everything goes through her."
"Iris," Ethan repeated. "Where do I find her?"
Mason shook his head quickly. "You don't. People who try end up missing. Or worse."
Ethan turned to leave. "Then I'll start with Damian Locke. He always did like thinking he was untouchable."
Mason called, "Ward, wait! There's something else-your ex, Claire. She's not just Damian's wife. She's his public shield. Everything she signs keeps Locke Group's crimes clean. Without her, his empire collapses."
Ethan stopped cold. The words hit like a punch.
Claire was not just complicit-she was crucial.
He turned back. "Thanks for the tip," he said quietly.
Mason added as the door opened, "Be careful, Phoenix. The Circle's already watching you. They say your rebirth was predicted."
Ethan frowned. "Predicted?"
Mason nodded. "Vale left something behind-a prophecy or code. Whatever it is, they think you're the key."
Before Ethan could respond, a loud bang shook the building. The lights flickered.
"Get out-now! They're coming!"
Gunfire erupted outside.
Ethan dove behind the poker table as bullets shattered glass. Mason's men screamed, returning fire. Ethan grabbed his gun and fired twice through the doorway, hitting one attacker.
Smoke filled the room. He pulled Mason toward the back exit. "Move!"
They burst outside into the yard. Flames were already spreading through the containers. A black van screeched around the corner. Its side door slid open. Ghost stood inside, his mask shining in the firelight.
Their eyes met for a moment. Calm met rage.
Ghost lifted his rifle. Ethan didn't wait. He grabbed Mason and dove behind a container as a bullet zipped through the air, grazing his shoulder.
He hissed in pain. "Go!" he shouted. "Run!"
Mason sprinted toward the fence, disappearing into the dark. Ethan turned just as Ghost fired again. The bullet struck the metal inches from his head, sending sparks flying.
He shot back, but the van sped away into the night.
Natalie's car screeched to a stop nearby. "Get in!" she yelled.
Ethan jumped inside, gripping his shoulder as they sped away from the blazing yard.
"You okay?" she asked.
He nodded, blood soaking his sleeve. "They knew I was there. Someone gave them my location."
"Someone inside the Circle?"
Ethan's eyes were cold. "No. Someone close to me."
Back at the safehouse, he dropped the bloody jacket and sank into a chair. Natalie silently patched his wound.
"You think Claire told them?" she asked.
Ethan didn't respond immediately. He stared at the ring glowing faintly in his hand.
"She's protecting Damian. But she's protecting someone else too," he said slowly. "Someone she's afraid of."
Natalie frowned. "Who?"
He looked up, his voice low. "Maybe not who. Maybe what."
Outside, thunder rumbled across the city. The Phoenix's fire was spreading, and someone, somewhere, was feeding the flames.