3
Selene stared at the list in front of her, the ink still fresh, the names and notes glaring back at her like a challenge.
Victor Langley sat at the top in bold letters, a symbol of everything she had lost, everything she would take back. But she couldn't take him down alone. Not yet.
She needed information. She needed someone who could do what she couldn't.
And she knew exactly where to start.
Two Hours Later—West Side, The Ember Club
The Ember Club was not the kind of place Adrian would have ever set foot in.
It wasn't a place for people like him—polished, ethical, believing in the system. No, this was a place where rules were flexible, where business was done in dark corners, where the right amount of money could buy silence, information, or a knife in someone's back.
Selene had never been here before, but she had heard the rumors. The Ember Club belonged to men like Damian Rios.
She stepped through the doors, and the air hit her like a wall—thick with cigar smoke and the scent of expensive whiskey. The place was packed, but no one paid her any attention. Good. She wanted to blend in, at least for now.
She moved toward the back, where the real business happened.
At a private booth, exactly where she expected him to be, sat Damian Rios—former detective, now something… else. He was a man people sought when they needed dirt, when they wanted someone found, or when they wanted someone to disappear.
Damian had once been a good cop. He had worked on Adrian's case, had tried to help. Then he had been forced out of the force when the system proved how rotten it was.
Now, he worked in the shadows.
And Selene needed him.
She stopped at his table. "Rios."
He didn't look up immediately, just took a slow sip from his glass before finally meeting her gaze. His dark eyes assessed her, unreadable. "Selene Carter."
So he remembered her. Good. That would make things easier.
Or harder.
"What brings you here?" His voice was casual, but there was curiosity behind it. She wasn't someone who belonged in a place like this, and they both knew it.
She slid into the seat across from him. "I need information."
Damian tilted his glass slightly. "That so?"
She nodded. "On Victor Langley."
That got his attention. His grip on the glass tightened just a fraction before he set it down. "Dangerous name to be throwing around in a place like this."
"I don't care."
He studied her for a long moment, then smirked. "You used to be smarter than this."
She ignored the dig. "You worked Adrian's case. You knew the evidence was fake."
He exhaled sharply. "Didn't matter, did it? Didn't stop them from burying him."
Selene's stomach twisted. "And you didn't stop them either."
Something dark flickered across his face. A reminder of his own failures, perhaps.
He leaned back. "What exactly do you want, Selene?"
She pushed a folded piece of paper across the table.
"My list," she said. "I need answers."
Damian didn't touch the paper. "And what do I get in return?"
She had expected that. Nothing in his world came for free.
"What do you want?" she asked.
He studied her, eyes sharp. "Your clean reputation. Your contacts. You still have people who trust you, people who wouldn't talk to someone like me." He tapped the paper once. "You want dirt on Langley? I want dirt on the people who helped him."
Selene's hands curled into fists beneath the table. If she agreed to this, there was no going back.
But she had already crossed that line the moment she stood at Adrian's grave and decided that Victor Langley had to fall.
She reached out, picked up his glass, and took a slow sip before setting it down.
"Deal."
Damian smiled. "Then let's get to work."