Chapter 56 War Games

The sun hung high, its rays biting into my skin as the boat rocked gently with the tide. I sat across from John, watching the ripples in the water, though my mind was miles away from the quiet sea. BunnyBlade. I needed to contact BunnyBlade. If Crow had been watching me in Markend, there was no way his eyes could reach this far. Distance was my only advantage, but it wouldn’t last. First, I needed to get back to civilization. Then I could plan. Then I could breathe.

But there was John. The problem wasn’t that he’d saved me; the problem was that he’d seen me. My face. My clothes. My every goddamn feature. A witness. I shifted slightly, my mind spinning through contingencies, and that’s when his voice cut through the quiet.

“Don’t even think about it,” John said calmly, almost bored, but his gaze sharpened like a knife.

I froze, the chill crawling up my spine immediate and unrelenting. “…Did you just read my thoughts?” I asked slowly, eyes narrowing. “Are you a cape?”

He leaned against the railing of his small fishing boat, smirking like he’d seen this a thousand times before. “Not really,” he replied, shrugging. “For one, you won’t catch me wearing spandex or any fancy clothes. And as for my powers—” his expression turned faintly amused, almost pitying, “—I can see killing intent. Yours is… something else. Like you want to kill the world.”

“That’s one weird-ass superpower,” I muttered, unsure whether to feel relieved or even more unsettled.

“I’ve been told worse,” he said, unfazed.

I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure what to make of him. “Then why?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. “Why did you save me?”

He regarded me for a long moment, his eyes almost too sharp for comfort, before answering. “Because honestly, I thought you were just some poor kid who needed help. But now that I’m looking at you—” his tone softened, though it wasn’t kindness, just brutal honesty, “—I see a broken kid. One who even with the smallest kindness can’t be fixed.”

I flinched. The words landed like a sucker punch, not because they were cruel but because they were true. I had nothing to say to that. Instead, I swallowed down the heat in my throat and shifted gears. “Do you have a phone?” I asked, sharp and direct.

“Inside,” John said with a lazy gesture toward the small cabin. “Box to your left.”

I didn’t move right away. Something about this man and his casual, steady demeanor made my skin itch, not in fear but in discomfort. People didn’t hand out kindness like this, not without an angle, not in my world.

“How do I repay you?” I finally asked, unable to help myself.

John tilted his head, smiling faintly but without warmth. “I don’t want to be repaid, really,” he said, voice calm, almost tired. Then, after a pause, “But I do have some advice for you: a life of killing will ruin you. Taint your soul in ways you can’t ever clean off.”

I stared at him, letting the words hang between us, heavy and suffocating. Then I shook my head. “No thanks,” I said, cold and sharp. “If you don’t want anything from me, then I’m going to get that phone call.”

Without waiting for his reply, I turned and ducked into the cabin. The inside smelled faintly of salt, oil, and rust. To the left, just like he’d said, a battered plastic box sat against the wall. I flipped it open, found the phone, and punched in the message with quick, precise strokes.

[Urgent. Call me.]

I waited, sitting on the edge of the small wooden bench inside the cabin, the cheap phone clutched tightly in my hand. The sea rocked the boat gently, the only sound the quiet hum of waves slapping against the hull. Then it rang.

I answered without hesitation. “Crow wants you dead,” I said, no pleasantries, no wasted breath.

There was nothing but static on the other end for a heartbeat, then… click. The line went dead.

“Fuck!” I slammed my palm against the wall, the phone creaking in my grip. Before I could curse him out in my head, the phone buzzed, a new message flashing on the tiny cracked screen.

[You are outside Markend. What are you doing in the Angora Sea?]

BunnyBlade probably tracked the phone call.

I stared at the message, brows knitting. Angora Sea? My stomach dropped, my mind instantly recalculating everything. My math had been way off. I’d thought I’d land closer to the Deadend, maybe somewhere along the southern shore. Instead, I’d overshot by a wide margin.

[Crow’s spying ability is limited by distance. This is the only way I could contact you without tipping him off.] I typed back, my fingers tapping fast and sharp.

Seconds later, another message arrived.

[He’s a smart guy, so he’ll be able to deduce it one way or another. Wait, I will call you.]

The phone rang again. I didn’t even let the second tone play out before answering.

“At least it’ll keep him guessing,” I said, leaning back against the cold wall, trying to steady my voice.

BunnyBlade’s voice was sharp, tired, and edged with something that could’ve been fear. “The video you sent me had a malware attached, some program digging into my systems, trying to find my location. I thought it was just some overengineered coincidence, but no. Crow’s behind it. Had to be.”

I clenched my jaw, breathing through my nose. “What did you even do to him, Bunny? Why is he so hellbent on finding you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, frustration lacing his tone. “But whatever this is, I owe you one, Eclipse. I do. But this… this is where I draw the line. I’m going to lie low for a while, shut everything down. No jobs. No business. Not until this blows over.”

I ground my teeth, anger simmering like coals beneath my ribs. “You’re just going to throw in the towel that easily?”

“It’s not about easy,” he shot back.

I cut him off. “Then at least let me try.”

There was a beat of silence on the line, the sound of the waves filling the void between us. “…Try what?” he finally asked, suspicion dripping from every syllable.

“Slaughtering the crow myself,” I said, my voice low, steady, and dead serious. “You know my history, Bunny. You know what I’ve done. And chances are, I can do it. I’ve already mapped the limitations of his spying ability. And from the way you reacted, you’ve got an idea how it works too. That’s why you tried to cut the line the second I told you Crow wanted you dead.”

Silence again, but heavier this time, like a held breath waiting to explode.

Then, softly, “What’s the plan?”

I exhaled slowly, tightening my grip on the phone. “First,” I said, choosing every word carefully, “can you help me send a discreet message to my girlfriend? Something that says I’m still alive, but that she needs to pretend I’m dead. That she needs to take care of herself… better yet, that she needs to hide.”

BunnyBlade’s voice crackled through the cheap phone, sharp but steady. “I don’t know about hiding,” he said. “Hear me out. From what I’ve learned of Crow’s power, anyone exposed to him face-to-face becomes subject to it immediately. At least, that’s the speculation running around Pride’s channels.” He paused, exhaling. “And speaking of Pride, they want your head, Eclipse. What the hell did you even do?”

I leaned against the cabin wall, the wooden boards creaking behind me. “Would Pride let go of me if I gave them Crow’s head?”

There was a long silence before his flat reply came. “I don’t know. It depends on what you’re asking to be exempted from. But my guess? No.”

I let that sink in, my mind grinding through the possibilities. They wouldn’t forgive me for what happened to Royal. Of course, they weren’t one hundred percent sure I’d killed him, but that didn’t matter. Pride didn’t need proof; they just needed a reason. And they already sent two assassins my way… Four, if I counted the Triplets individually.

I straightened and asked, “How confident are you that no one has ever seen your face before?”

“Very,” he said without hesitation. “I’ve built my whole operation around that.”

“Then let’s fake your death,” I said, the plan forming even as I spoke. “Leak intel to Pride about Crow’s hit on you, how you’re planning to turn the tables against Crow. Name drop me, tell them I’ll be there. Provoke them if you have to. I’ll do the same with Seamark.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a near shout. “Are you insane!? You’re going to pit the three major gangs against each other? Pride, Seamark, and Crow’s people? That’s not a fight, that’s a fucking war!”

“Arrange a plane ticket for me,” I said flatly, ignoring the panic in his voice. “Nearest airbase from here, off the books. Something the SRC won’t detect.”

He groaned, frustration dripping from his tone. “That’s going to be expensive.”

“Bill me later.”

There was a long pause. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Then, surprisingly, a note of excitement slipped into his voice. “Fine. But if we’re doing this…” He let the sentence trail, almost testing me. “Then we might as well up the crazy.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How?”

“What do you think,” BunnyBlade said, his tone darkening, “about killing an SRC agent?”

The corners of my mouth curled upward, a smile sharper and more vicious than I’d intended. “Let’s do it.”