The tablet screen glowed faintly.
A digital roulette appeared at the center, spinning slowly—seven colored segments forming a perfect circle: green, yellow, orange, red, purple, white, black. The colors pulsed softly, almost as if they were alive.
The police girl drew a quiet breath, her eyes fixed on the screen.
"So many colors… what do they even mean?"
Moore leaned back slightly, fingers brushing his chin.
"Looks like… ranks or classes?"
He wasn't even sure himself. A cold sensation crept up the back of his neck.
Pooule leaned forward, studying the wheel with a thin smile.
"If that black one hits… it's gotta be something insane."
Zane kept staring at the screen.
Yellow.
Calm on the surface… but something about it felt off.
The police girl still looked confused.
"So… what does yellow actually mean?"
"Rank?" Moore guessed.
The screen flickered again.
Pop.
A document slid out from the interface—unfolding into a single sheet.
A towering African man filled the frame, his body thick and powerful in a way that felt natural but overwhelming. Not exaggerated—just the kind of size that made you instinctively take a step back.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
BERI DA COSTA — 2★
____________________________________________________________________________________________
"…There it is. The contract," Moore said.
"Basically, we order this guy to kill. Right." The guy in yellow questions.
***
"…What rank are you, actually?"
The question came out simply from Zane. Direct.
Aimed at Arash in the passenger seat.
Arash didn't answer immediately.
He just spun a small knife between his fingers—flip… catch… flip…
Time felt slower. He let the knife drop onto the dashboard. Clink.
"…green."
Silence.
Zane looked at him sharply.
"Isn't...the lowest color? " as he scrolls the smartphone.
Arash smiled faintly. One brow lifted as he stared back at Zane.
A pause.
Then Zane finally understood.
"…I get it."
"Good luck, Sheriff," Arash said softly.
"…Sorry—Merlin."
***
"What's next?"
Moore turned toward Zane.
"Two days from now. District 24. The old internet café."
Zane leaned back against the table, arms folded.
"We'll get a death-row inmate marked as the target. Detective?"
Moore thumbs up.
"Jan, you're with me. Main show. Pooule stays on standby. The rest of you sit this one out. Keep your faces clean."
The scarred woman narrowed one eye, giving a silent signal that she was ready.
"Thirty minutes without a signal, I'm diving in."
The police girls straightened up immediately, eager.
"Looking forward to it."
With that, the meeting was over.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Coats were grabbed. One by one, they disappeared into different corners of the sleeping city — some heading home, others preparing in silence for what was coming.
"Ferdy."
The man in the yellow jacket stopped halfway through the doorway and glanced back.
Zane tilted his head slightly.
"Come keep me company."
Ferdy smirked.
"Sure."
The two walked off together while the others vanished into the rain-soaked streets.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Only the sound of shoes against wet pavement filled the silence.
Streetlights flickered overhead as they passed closed shops, rusted shutters, and empty alleyways drowned in neon reflections. The city felt quieter this late at night — like even the criminals were asleep.
Zane slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it while walking.
The brief flame illuminated the faint smile on his face.
Ferdy noticed immediately.
"That smile usually means trouble."
Zane let out a chuckle.
"Nah."
They turned into a more isolated industrial lane near an old garage district. The noise of the city slowly faded behind them.
Then Zane finally glanced toward him.
Relaxed.
Casual.
But his eyes stayed serious.
"Simple question, Ferdy."
Smoke escaped slowly from his mouth.
"You with me?"
Ferdy stared at him for a moment.
Then smiled.
Zane grinned wider.
And somewhere far above them, thunder rolled across the city sky.
— END OF CHAPTER —