Chapter 3: The Man in the White Suit

  Victor stared at the mark on the wall—"V=I+X."

  They weren’t just watching anymore.

  They were following. Testing. Provoking.

  This wasn’t just pressure now.

  It was war.

  Victor knew what that meant.

  No more code.

  If they wanted to break the rules—

  He’d bury them in the ones he’d written himself.

  Two hours later, Victor sat in the darkest corner of The Velvet Knife, an upscale cigar lounge where deals were signed in silence and sins were served with whiskey.

  He didn’t wear a suit. Didn’t drink. Didn’t speak.

  He just watched.

  Because the man in the white suit had arrived.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Salvi.

  Head of the “old blood” family. One of the five who ruled the city from shadows. But tonight, he wasn't alone.

  Victor’s eyes scanned Salvi’s companions: a bodyguard with military posture, a woman who looked like she hated being there, and a third man with no name, no record, and a scar like a zipper down his throat.

  Salvi lit a cigar. His rings caught the low light like tiny knives.

  “Someone’s stirring the quiet,” Salvi said to his table. “Cleaners working double shifts. Files popping up that shouldn’t exist.”

  Victor listened through a tiny earpiece, connected to a transmitter beneath the table. Signal was clean. But what he heard next chilled him.

  “I want the ghost found. The one marking scenes with ‘V=I+X’.”

  Salvi took a long drag.

  “And if it’s who I think it is… bury him where no one will ever clean again.”

  Victor didn’t flinch. But his mind raced.

  They don’t think it’s me.

  Good.

  Let them look everywhere else.

  The woman leaned in. “And what if it is him?”

  Salvi smiled. Cold. Like a man who’s killed and forgotten names.

  “Then I’ll wear his skull as a centerpiece.”

  Victor stood quietly and left the lounge.

  He didn’t need to hear more.

  Because now it was clear:

  Salvi wasn’t behind the mark.

  Someone else was playing them both.

  And Victor was done waiting.

  He pulled out his phone, opened Black File 1075, and began typing:

  > Target: Salvi

  Status: Watching the watchers

  Threat Level: White Fire

  Initiate passive breach. Discredit. Collapse from within.

  Victor was no assassin.

  He was worse.

  He made you erase yourself.