Part One
The highway stretched ahead, a thin ribbon of cracked asphalt winding toward the city's jagged skyline. Night had begun its slow crawl over Nova Haven, shadows swallowing the fields on either side. Damian kept his head low as the occasional truck roared past, its headlights casting him in harsh flashes before plunging him back into the dim orange haze of the streetlamps.
His ribs ached with each step, reminders of the boots that had slammed into him the day before. But the physical pain was easier to carry than the weight in his chest. The image of Avery's trembling hands offering Ryan the last of their cash replayed over and over — like his mind wanted to burn it into him until there was nothing left of him but rage.
He needed answers.
And in Nova Haven, answers came with a price.
***
By the time Damian reached the city's edge, the wind carried the sharp scent of salt from The Waterfront mixed with the acrid tang of exhaust. The skyline loomed closer now — monolithic towers of glass and steel, each lit window a reminder of lives untouched by hunger or fear. Beneath them, the streets churned with noise: the wail of sirens somewhere deep in The Undercity, the bass thump of music from clubs in The Arts District, the constant murmur of people in motion.
He crossed into familiar territory — The Undercity's northern blocks — where the buildings leaned on each other like drunks after a long night, and the neon signs buzzed as if trying to keep themselves awake. This was the neighborhood where hustlers, dealers, and day laborers all rubbed shoulders, each pretending they weren't one step away from disaster.
A familiar figure stood on the corner outside a rundown bodega: Leo "Keys" Martinez, a small-time fixer and occasional fence for stolen goods. Damian had done business with him once, flipping a batch of electronics he'd bought at auction. Keys wasn't the kind of man to keep friends, but he knew everyone worth knowing in the Undercity — including Ryan's people.
Keys spotted him and grinned, revealing a gold canine tooth.
"Damian Smithen," he said, voice slick as oil. "You look like hell."
"I need information," Damian said, skipping the small talk.
"That's gonna cost you." Keys glanced up and down the street, then nodded toward the bodega. "Come on."
***
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of stale bread and overripe fruit. A bored clerk sat behind the counter watching a soap opera on a small TV, barely glancing at them as they walked past into the stockroom. Keys shut the door and leaned against a stack of boxes.
"So," Keys said, "you're still breathing after tangling with Ryan's crew. That's something."
Damian clenched his jaw. "They jumped me. Went after my brother. Took my mother's money."
"Yeah, I heard. Ryan's been getting bolder." Keys scratched at his jaw. "But you don't come to me for sympathy, so what is it you want?"
"I want to know exactly how deep my family's in with him," Damian said. "Numbers. Dates. The works."
Keys let out a low whistle. "That's dangerous curiosity, my friend. Ryan doesn't like people poking around his books. But…" He smirked. "Lucky for you, I happen to know someone who handles a slice of his accounts."
Damian stepped closer. "Name."
"Relax. I'll set up a meet. But you better have something to trade — cash or a favor."
"I'll find a way," Damian said.
Keys studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Tomorrow night. Raven's. You show up clean — no weapons, no attitude — and maybe you'll get your answers."
The name hit Damian like a slap. Raven's. The place Ryan had told Avery and Sophia to come to.
Keys must've seen something shift in Damian's expression. "Careful, Smithen. That place isn't just a club. It's a spider's web. People go in thinking they're there for one thing and come out owned by Ryan for life."
Damian met his gaze. "Then I guess I'll just have to watch where I step."
***
The walk back to Juniper Street felt heavier. The closer he got to the apartment, the slower his pace became, as if part of him dreaded seeing what was waiting inside. He climbed the narrow stairwell, each creak of the steps echoing in the stale air.
The front door was unlocked — Avery's doing. Inside, the air was warm and stifling, carrying the faint medicinal smell of Ethan's cough syrup. Ava sat at the small kitchen table with her homework spread out, the pencil unmoving in her hand. Sophia was by the window, staring out at the streetlights. Asher sat cross-legged on the floor, watching a tiny TV propped on a milk crate.
Avery was in the bedroom with Ethan. Damian could hear their hushed voices, though he couldn't make out the words.
Sophia turned when he stepped inside. Her eyes narrowed slightly — not with anger, but with something else. Worry. Distrust.
"You're out late," she said.
"I was talking to someone about the debt," Damian replied, keeping his voice low.
Her expression tightened. "You mean Ryan."
"I mean fixing the problem," Damian said.
Sophia crossed her arms. "By getting in deeper with him? That's smart."
Damian's temper flared, but he swallowed it. "Where's Mom?"
"In with Dad. He had a rough day."
Damian walked toward the bedroom, but Sophia's voice followed him.
"You think you can save us, but all you're gonna do is drag us further in. Just like him."
Damian froze, the words hitting harder than he expected. He didn't ask who him was. They both knew. Ethan — the man who had tried to play the city's game and lost.
***
Avery was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a cool cloth to Ethan's forehead. Her shoulders sagged, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
"You shouldn't be out making trouble," she said without looking at him.
"I'm not," Damian replied. "I'm finding a way out."
"There is no way out," she said softly. "Not with men like Ryan." She wrung the cloth out in a basin. "Every move you make, he's already thought about it. And he's already decided how he'll use it against you."
Damian stepped closer. "Then I'll think faster."
She finally looked at him — tired, pained, but steady. "Don't mistake stubbornness for strength, Damian. That's how people get buried in this city."
Ethan stirred, coughing weakly. Avery turned back to him, ending the conversation without saying so. Damian lingered for a moment, then left the room.
***
That night, Damian lay awake on the couch, the sounds of the city filtering through the thin walls — a distant siren, the thump of music from a passing car, the laughter of drunks in the alley. He thought about Raven's, about Ryan, about the stranger he was going to meet. He thought about the skyline he'd seen from the highway, glittering like a challenge.
He didn't know exactly how yet, but one thing was certain.
If Nova Haven wanted to bury him, it would have to dig deep.