Syndicate City never slept. Neon fractured across wet asphalt, the air thick with rain, gasoline, and smoke. Inside the safehouse, whiskey and cigarette haze mixed with weapon oil as Troy Calder lounged in a metal chair, cigarette glowing between his fingers. Across the table, Gage and Rook shuffled papers, whispering like men unsure whether to obey or run.

“Are we sure the target’s here?” Gage asked, eyes flicking toward the door.

Troy didn’t look up from the map. “Intel’s solid,” he said calmly. “Follow instructions. Anyone screws up, they’ll wish they hadn’t.”

Rook swallowed. “And if they spot us first—”

“They will,” Troy cut in, eyes sharp now. “That’s the point.” Smoke curled from his lips. “Stay sharp. The rest is mine.”

He stood and checked the weapons laid out—knife, silenced pistol, tools polished and precise. “I’m going in first. You cover the perimeter. No improvising.”

They nodded. Troy grabbed his jacket and stepped into the night.

The streets were unnervingly quiet, neon reflections rippling in puddles. Troy moved with practiced silence, every shadow alive, every window a threat. He slipped into an alley, climbed the fire escape, and paused to listen. The building whispered back—movement, voices, life.

At the top floor, he crouched low. Emergency lights flickered, shadows stretching long. A faint sound froze him mid-step. Then movement—fast, confident, familiar. Too familiar. His grip tightened on the knife. Not possible.

He advanced, slow and silent, stopping outside the target apartment. From inside came a soft chuckle—wrong. Not the target.

He eased the door open.

The target sat bound to a chair, blood streaking their neck, eyes wild with fear. Troy’s gaze slid past them to the figure standing behind, knife in hand.

Calm. Controlled.

It was her.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to steel and silence. Instinct screamed—danger, challenge, temptation. Troy stepped inside, eyes locking with hers as neon light hummed through the blinds.

His voice broke the tension, low and intrigued. “So… this is how you play,” he said, knife glinting as his lips curved. “Bold. Dangerous. And completely impossible to ignore.”