When Adam finished speaking, he gently helped Pamela back to her feet. She had finally calmed down. Hearing Adam stand up for her like that left her oddly moved, a warmth spreading through her chest.

'This guy from Gotham… maybe he's not as bad as I thought.'

The day's inspection ended on a sour note. Back at the hotel, Adam retreated to his room to compile his report for Gotham.

"In recent days of covert observation, I've discovered that most of the tobacco farmers here are drowning in debt to loan sharks who work with the purchasing syndicates. These middlemen pay deposits months in advance to secure future harvests. But the sudden planting ban—announced with zero warning or compensation—has obliterated the farmers' only hope of repaying their debts. Worse, overseas buyers refuse to accept substitute crops, pushing entire villages to the brink of bankruptcy…"

Adam's pen scratched across the page. He was fully immersed in his report when the satellite phone hidden in his travel bag began to ring.

His brows furrowed. Only two people had the number—Chief Loeb and Black Mask. This particular ringtone could mean only one thing.

The worse one.

He let it ring twice before answering.

"Why the hell did you take so long?!" Black Mask's voice roared through the receiver, so raw with fury it felt like the man was in the room. "What are you doing, screwing around with that little plant girl? Huh?! Do you even know what's happening right now?!"

Adam's grip tightened on the pen.

"Something's wrong with the southern procurement?" he asked, testing the waters. He remembered the officer's earlier remarks and had a sinking suspicion.

"You know about this, and you didn't report it to me?! You idiot! Are you thinking through your cock instead of your brain?!" Black Mask spat curses like machine-gun fire.

Adam sighed, calmly placing the phone down on the table. Without a word, he slammed his palm down on it.

BANG!

The sound carried cleanly across the line, likely rattling the ears of the Gotham crime lord. Adam picked up the receiver again, his tone cold and deliberate.

"Listen, Sionis. One—I only got wind of this from the local military this morning. Two—" Adam's voice dropped to a razor's edge. "I am not your subordinate. You don't own me, and I don't report to you. Got it?"

There was silence on the other end, the kind that carried danger. Adam knew Black Mask's type—predators who only respected those who didn't flinch. Back down for even a second, and you'd be chewed to pieces.

And besides, Adam was thousands of miles from Gotham. Sionis couldn't exactly put a gun to his head. Not tonight,anyway.

Finally, Black Mask spoke again, his tone chillingly calm. "Alright, Adam. I'll ignore your little tantrum. For now. But listen closely—my crews down south got nothing. Not a single crate. I pulled every string to get you embedded on this trip, and this is what I get?"

Adam leaned back in his chair. "Our deal was simple: I smuggle your people across the border, you cover my expenses. That's it. I don't owe you a damn thing."

The other end went quiet for a beat. Then Black Mask laughed, low and humorless.

"Oh, you really think it's that easy?" His voice was suddenly cold as steel. "Fifteen thousand dollars, Detective. That was the price. You think just playing guide wipes your slate clean?"

Adam's jaw tightened. "Cut the games, Sionis. I held up my end. Don't try your usual crap on me."

Black Mask chuckled darkly. "Young men like you… all arrogance and no brains. You think fifteeen grand matters to me? I'd spend five times that just to buy your head."

His tone shifted, growing almost eerily calm, like a devil whispering from the shadows.

"My men are everywhere in Gotham. Do you really want to live checking under your car for bombs every morning? Do you want to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life? Or worse—do you want to see the people you care about disappear? Your friends, your future wife, your children…" His voice dipped to a low, mocking drawl. "Imagine finding them years later, broken and begging on the streets, their tongues cut out, their arms and legs gone… staring at you with hollow eyes."

Adam's hand slammed the table. "You bastard! Are you seriously threatening me?!"

"Oh, I'm absolutely threatening you," Black Mask replied, his voice like a blade wrapped in silk. "And yelling won't change a thing. I'm the devil in Gotham, boy. Ask around. I don't just break people. I destroy them."

Adam's pulse quickened, but he forced himself to breathe. "You can't touch me here. I'm in South America, Sionis. I have no family in Gotham. Your scare tactics won't work on me."

A pause. Then a soft, cruel laugh.

"Oh? Is that where your confidence comes from?" Black Mask's voice turned playful, almost sing-song. "Let me guess… you're sitting in your hotel room. Seventh floor. Desk near the window. Your little apprentice is in the living room, watching cartoons—old-fashioned gray ghost, isn't it? Your bodyguard is smoking outside in the corridor, worried second-hand smoke will ruin the kid's lungs…"

Adam froze. The words slithered into his ears like icy fingers.

In a flash, he bolted to the living room. Jason looked up from the TV, startled, as Adam yanked the curtains shut and crouched low, peeking through a narrow slit. Outside, there was nothing but darkness. No lights. No movement.

"Ugly, isn't it? Crawling on the floor like that," Black Mask's voice teased through the phone, calm and cold. "But stop looking. You won't see them. You said I couldn't touch you. I'm just giving you a taste of how wrong you are."

Adam's throat went dry. It didn't make sense. He'd helped Sionis smuggle in his man—Number 1—along with a cache of weapons. But there was no way the guy could've reached this city so fast, much less set up surveillance this tight.

Black Mask chuckled again, as if reading his mind.

"I've already got roots here, Adam. The general hanged my top guy last year, but the rest of my crew is still out there, hiding. That's why I sent Number 1—to bring them back together. While you've been busy flirting with little Miss Botany, my people have regrouped. I might not topple the general overnight, but killing a loudmouth detective in a foreign country?" His laugh was razor-sharp. "That's easy."

Adam stared at the window, the fading dusk outside looking like the maw of some giant beast waiting to swallow him whole.

"Think it over," Black Mask said, his tone now almost casual. "There are tribes deep in the northern mountains—ones that haven't heard a damn thing about this ban. Their stockpiles are untouched. Go there. Secure them for me. One will contact you if needed."

There was no room for negotiation in his voice. Black Mask never worried about rejection. He always assumed he'd win.

"Do this," Sionis said, "and your debt is cleared. You'll walk away clean. That's my promise."

The line went dead.

Adam sat there, silent, the phone still clutched in his hand, a cold dread coiling in his chest like a living thing.