Chapter 4 - The Whisper
The phone slipped slightly in my grip, the cold plastic slick against my sweating palm.
"Ewan," I choked out, my throat suddenly entirely dry.
"Where are you?"
"I don't have time," Ewan gasped, the sound of heavy metal doors echoing in the background of the call.
"Delia is a plant, Julian."
"She infiltrated your house to find out where you keep the syndicate ledgers."
"She is working directly for Celeste's father, and she always has been."
The line went dead, leaving me in absolute, terrifying silence.
I stared at the dashboard of the car, my mind fracturing into a thousand conflicting pieces.
Delia had sworn she was Ewan's wife, claiming Celeste was the enemy.
Ewan had just sworn from a burner phone that Delia was the traitor.
And Marcus had just confessed that he had been lying to me for six entire years.
I didn't have a single person left in this city I could trust.
"Drive," I commanded Marcus, my voice devoid of any emotion.
"Where to, sir?"
"Take me to the old industrial motel on the edge of the train yard."
I remembered a small detail from a background check I ran two years ago when I hired Delia.
She had listed an emergency contact at a run-down motel on the West Side.
If she was playing me, she would not wait for my guards at the hospital.
We arrived at the motel just as the morning sun broke through the grey winter clouds.
Room 42 was at the back, facing the rusted chain-link fence.
I drew my weapon, kicked the cheap wooden door open, and stepped into the dim room.
The room smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap bleach, but it was not empty.
Delia was standing in the center of the stained carpet.
She was no longer wearing a hospital gown, and she was no longer crying.
She was holding a heavy, suppressed pistol, pointing it directly at the head of a man tied to a wooden chair.
It was Ray Calder, the dockworker I had spared just yesterday.
Ray looked up at me, his face bruised and bleeding.
"She is a monster, boss," Ray gasped, spitting blood onto the floor.
"She was the one who paid me to sell those shipping schedules to the West Side."
Delia did not lower the weapon, her eyes locking onto mine with an icy, calculated precision.
"He is lying to save his family, Julian," Delia said smoothly.
"Drop the gun, Delia," I warned, aiming my own weapon squarely at her chest.
"I spoke to my brother five minutes ago, and he told me exactly who you are."
Delia let out a cold, bitter laugh that sent a shiver down my spine.
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"Your brother is a coward who will say anything to stop them from cutting off his fingers."
"And if you don't lower that gun right now, Julian, I am going to blow this man's brains all over the wall."
