The truck roared to life, wheels spinning against gravel.
Trey didn't speak for the first few miles. He drove like a man with a deadline.
The highway blurred past — gray sky, dead trees, broken signs.
Maya kept glancing behind them.
Evan sat between them, clutching the key in his pocket so hard it cut into his skin.
Trey finally broke the silence.
"You know why Jonas matters?"
"No," Evan said.
Trey snorted. "Course you don't. Your old man kept you clean."
Maya leaned forward. "Jonas Redd isn't just some ghost. He's the one who started this."
"This what?" Evan asked.
She glanced at Trey.
"You tell him," Trey said, lighting another cigarette. "You're the expert."
Maya sighed.
"Your father was part of something called The Pale Court. Secret group. Old families. Blood deals. Money moves."
"Sounds like a bad movie," Evan muttered.
"It's worse," she said.
"They chose who lived. Who vanished. Who paid. And Jonas — Jonas burned it down."
Evan frowned. "Why would my father be involved?"
Maya turned fully toward him now, eyes hard.
"Because he owed them. And now you owe."
Trey laughed, a short, humorless bark. "They think you're the cleanup."
Evan leaned his head back against the seat. Rain started to fall, hammering the roof like nails.
"You're lying," he said quietly.
"Wish we were," Maya said.
Hours blurred by.
They crossed state lines without stopping.
Evan barely noticed the gas station lights, the abandoned diners, the twisted billboards.
When they finally pulled into New Orleans, it was near midnight.
The city breathed differently — damp, heavy, flickering neon lights against puddles.
Music thudded from far-off clubs. Drunks stumbled between alleyways.
Trey parked two blocks from their target.
He killed the lights. "We walk from here."
Evan stepped out. The air smelled of rain and rust.
They moved fast through the streets, staying in the shadows.
Maya led them to a small, rotted bookstore squeezed between two empty brick buildings.
The sign read:
"Redd's Fine Books" — the paint almost peeled away.
"Here?" Evan asked.
Maya nodded.
Trey drew a knife from his belt. "He won't be alone."
Evan wiped his palms on his jeans.
Maya pushed the door open.
The bell chimed weakly overhead.
Inside, the bookstore smelled of mold and old wood. Shelves leaned under the weight of forgotten stories.
And behind the counter sat an old man.
White hair. Torn gloves. One eye cloudy, the other sharp as glass.
He looked up, saw Evan, and smiled without warmth.
"Took you long enough," Jonas said.
Jonas moved slowly.
His right leg dragged when he walked — old injury.
He poured three glasses of something dark and bitter-smelling, pushed them across the counter.
Maya didn't touch hers. Trey did.
Evan stared at Jonas.
"You know why I'm here," Evan said.
Jonas chuckled. "Course I do, boy. You think you're here to end it."
"I'm here for answers."
Jonas leaned in close.
"You ain't ready."
Before Evan could reply, Jonas snapped his fingers.
A door behind the counter creaked open. Two more men entered.
Big. Quiet. Arms crossed like steel cables.
Maya tensed. Trey muttered a curse.
Jonas tapped the counter with one broken fingernail.
"You think you're hunting them?" Jonas said. "You're just the next piece on the board."
"What does that mean?" Evan asked.
Jonas ignored him.
"You've got your father's eyes. Full of fear. Full of hope."
He stood, slower than a man his size should have been able to.
"You wanna live, boy?" Jonas said.
Evan didn't answer.
Jonas reached under the counter. For one electric second, Evan thought it was a gun.
It wasn't.
He pulled out a battered leather notebook.
He tossed it toward Evan.
The notebook thudded on the counter.
"That's your inheritance," Jonas said. "That's why they want you dead."
Evan opened it.
Inside: names, dates, payments — hundreds of them — crossed by a single word:
"Cleansed."
Evan's stomach turned.
He recognized some of the names.
Teachers. Neighbors. Friends.
All gone.
All cleansed.
Jonas leaned closer, his breath sour with whiskey.
"You were never meant to find this. Your old man tried to bury it."
Maya grabbed Evan's arm.
"We need to go."
Trey was already backing toward the door.
But Jonas smiled wider.
"You can leave," he said. "Or you can stay and finish it."
Outside, thunder cracked the sky open.
Maya pulled harder. "Choose, Evan."
Jonas opened his arms, daring him.
"Be a sheep," Jonas said. "Or be a wolf."
The door behind them slammed shut.
Locked.
Jonas's two men moved forward.
Trey pulled a gun from under his jacket. Maya drew a second knife.
Evan closed the notebook, heart hammering.