E woke up in the ruins of the bar—smoke curling from his bruised ribs.
He barely remembered crawling through glass and vomit. The Triplets were gone, but his body was a ruin. Bones broken. Liver failing. Healing too slow.
His phone buzzed once.
A message from an unknown number.
"They've taken her. Harvest Spire. Blood Moon. Move."
No name. No sender.
But he knew.
He reached for the flask at his belt and stared at it for too long.
One more sip meant power. Two meant death.
He drank.
The strength came instantly. Not like adrenaline—this was divine rage. His muscles popped as they surged. Eyes turned blood-red.
He screamed.
Not from pain.
But because now—he could feel them.
The entire city.
Every friend who still had a tracker in them.
Every shadow still breathing.
He was not alone.