Samuel Vance had spent years unraveling the city’s dirtiest secrets, but this one was different. This wasn’t just another cover-up—this was surgical, deliberate, and protected by people with power.

Elliot Grayson’s accident. His supposed mental breakdown. His quiet removal from the world. None of it made sense. A man like that—ruthless, brilliant—didn’t just lose himself overnight. Someone had pulled the strings. And Samuel had a damn good idea who.

James Holloway had walked away from it all untouched, untouchable. Every lead pointed to him, yet every attempt to pin him down led to dead ends, missing files, altered reports. The deeper Samuel dug, the more resistance he faced. Someone was making sure this stayed buried.

And that someone was Evelyn Cross.

She was one of the best detectives in the city—sharp, efficient, and always ahead of the game. But lately, Samuel had noticed things. Files she had access to that suddenly disappeared. Leads that went cold the moment she touched them. She wasn’t just looking away. She was making sure no one else could look, either. That meant he had even less time than he thought.

The diner was nearly empty, the neon glow from the sign outside flickering against the window. The smell of burnt coffee and smoke of cigarettes lingered in the air, mixing with the distant hum of an old jukebox.

Samuel stirred his drink, his thoughts tangled in the mess of lies, power, and disappearing truths. He had spent weeks piecing this together, but if he was going to take this all the way, he couldn’t do it alone. A familiar presence slid into the seat across from him. No words at first. Just understanding.

He looked up, his voice low but steady. “I need your help.”