He never had been. That was how he’d survived this long—by thinking before acting, analyzing before committing.
But now?
Now, he didn’t have that luxury.
Cain knew about him. His people were watching. And John had a kid to protect.
That meant playing defense wasn’t an option anymore.
He had to make his next move.
And he had to do it fast.
John sat cross-legged in the shadows of an old rooftop, eyes scanning the city below.
Eli was sleeping a few feet away, exhaustion finally pulling him under. The kid had been through too much already.
Aria was nowhere to be found—which was both a relief and a concern.
John exhaled slowly.
Alright. Let’s break this down.
- Cain is watching me.
- He’s looking for Eli.
- He thinks I have something.
- I don’t know what it is.
Conclusion?
I need information.
And there was only one place to get it.
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Cain’s operations were spread across the city, but his true power wasn’t in his businesses or his enforcers.
It was in his network.
Information flowed through his people like blood through veins.
If John wanted answers, he needed to find the right vein to cut.
And he knew just the place to start.
The Black Veil wasn’t a bar.
It wasn’t a club.
It was an institution.
The kind of place where deals were made, alliances were forged, and threats were delivered with a smile.
And more importantly—it was where Cain’s people talked.
If John was going to get information, this was the place to be.
There was just one problem.
He wasn’t invited.
The Black Veil didn’t have bouncers.
It had guards.
And these weren’t just any street thugs—these were trained enforcers.
The kind who noticed things.
The kind who would recognize John if Cain had put his name on a list.
Which meant sneaking in wasn’t an option.
But blending in?
That, John could do.
John didn’t have time to overthink.
He waited for the right moment—a group of wealthy-looking patrons approaching the entrance.
One of them was drunk.
John slipped into step beside them, mimicking their confidence, their pace.
The guards barely glanced at him.
Then he was inside.
The interior of the Black Veil was nothing like the streets outside.
It was elegance built on corruption—gold-trimmed walls, dim lighting, low murmurs of conversation blending with soft music.
John moved carefully, scanning the room.
He wasn’t here to fight.
He wasn’t here to make a scene.
He was here to listen.
And within minutes, he found exactly what he was looking for.
A table in the back.
Two men. Speaking in low, urgent tones.
And one name that caught John’s full attention.
"Eli’s father."
John’s pulse spiked.
He moved closer.
This was it.