CHAPTER ONE — THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS, ONLY HIDES
Langston City looked beautiful from far away — like a postcard someone forgot to edit.
Blue river cutting through the center, gold lights on the bridges, fancy glass towers touching the sky.
But down in the streets?
It smelled like rain, rust, and lies.
Aiden Cole pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his worn leather jacket as he walked along Riverline Street. Midnight. Cold. Quiet enough to hear the hum of the neon signs, loud enough to hear someone lie if they whispered.
He hated this city.
He loved this city.
He couldn't decide which one hurt more.
A drunk man bumped into him.
"Watch it," Aiden muttered.
The man squinted at him. "You look familiar."
Aiden sighed. "I get that a lot. Must be my charming face."
He walked past quickly. No need for conversation. He didn't want anyone recognizing him — not as the ex-detective who couldn't save a girl three years ago. Not as the man who left the police with a badge still warm in his hand.
Tonight was supposed to be quiet. Maybe two cups of cheap coffee, some paperwork for his tiny private investigator office, then sleep.
But Langston City hated quiet.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He considered ignoring it… until he saw the message:
"You still solve problems, Cole?
I have one for you.
Come alone. Dock 17."
Aiden exhaled. "I should've stayed in bed."
He changed direction, heading toward the industrial district. The closer he got, the thicker the fog became — the kind that rolls in slow, like it's hiding something on purpose.
Dock 17 was deserted. Crates. Old boats. The metallic smell of the river.
Then he heard a voice:
"Cole."
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
Detective Mara Voss.
Sharp eyes. Dark coat. The same woman who once told him, "You're the smartest idiot I've ever met."
They weren't friends.
They weren't enemies.
They were something in between — a place where trust goes to die but refuses to stay dead.
Aiden raised an eyebrow. "You could've called like a normal person."
"I did," she said.
"You texted."
"That counts."
Aiden smirked. "So what's this about? If it's another councilman cheating on his wife, I charge double at midnight."
Mara's face didn't move.
Not even a blink.
"This one is different," she said quietly. "We found a body."
Aiden groaned. "I'm off duty. Permanently. Remember?"
"You're not listening."
She stepped closer.
Her breath formed fog in the cold air.
"The victim… he had your name written on his arm."
Aiden's heart stopped — just for a second.
"…What?"
Mara nodded. "Not tattooed. Not carved. Written in ink. Fresh." She looked at him carefully. "Someone wanted you to see this."
Aiden swallowed hard.
"Why me?"
"Don't know," she said. "But that's not the strangest part."
He waited.
Mara pulled a small plastic evidence bag from her coat.
Inside was a card. Old. Yellowed. The edges burned slightly.
Aiden recognized it immediately.
A symbol in black ink — a circle with three broken lines through it.
No.
Not again.
Not that symbol.
He felt his throat tighten.
Mara studied his face. "You know what it is."
Aiden looked away. "I hoped I'd never see it again."
"Cole…" she said, voice softer now. "Talk to me."
But he couldn't.
Because this wasn't just another case.
It was a ghost from his past.
And it was back.
A loud foghorn echoed across the river, shaking Aiden out of his thoughts.
He turned to Mara.
"Show me the body."
She nodded once.
And just like that — the city that never slept whispered its first warning.