CHAPTER 7
The vagrant's breathing was ragged shallow gasps that rattled through bloody lips. His hand trembled as he tried to wipe the blood from his mouth, but his fingers were useless. Cole sat silently behind the wheel, his gaze fixed on the windshield but his attention was locked on the man beside him.
The silence in the car wasn't just quiet.
It felt carved into the air.
Finally, the vagrant spoke. His voice was still shaky, but the edge of defiance was gone replaced by something that sounded like acceptance.
"Alright, alright, man…" he muttered, tilting his head slightly.
"Look… if the cops didn't kill her, they probably took her to the station. She's likely still in custody."
Cole didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
"But…" the vagrant continued, his voice dropping,
"You're not seriously thinking of pulling someone out of a police station… are you?"
He gave a short, dry laugh. The kind that hides fear in its cracks.
"Alone? You'd just walk in? This city's full of crazies…"
Cole's eyes darkened. He didn't reach for his gun, but his voice changed. It became colder stripped of patience.
"You just answer the questions," he said.
"I'll worry about the rest."
The silence returned, heavier this time. The vagrant swallowed hard.
"Look man, I swear… I don't know much. But I might know someone who does."
Cole's stare sharpened like a blade. The vagrant avoided it he spoke quickly.
"There's a guy in this city. Knows everything. Where, when, who you name it, he finds it."
A crooked grin twisted on his face, somewhere between respect and fear.
"But he's not cheap. Either you pay him… or you do whatever he wants. He doesn't talk for free."
Cole tilted his head slightly.
"Alright," he said.
"Where is he?"
The vagrant glanced at Cole, then nodded toward the city's southern sector.
"Old factory zone. Between two abandoned warehouses. You'll see a little office tinted windows, red door. That's the place."
Cole didn't reply.
He shifted the gear forward.
The car jolted as it rolled into motion. The vagrant still sat beside him, stiff and silent, holding his breath.
And then
Cole hit the brakes.
The vehicle stopped with a harsh jolt. Without a word, he reached across, opened the door, and shoved the man out.
"Your ride ends here," he muttered.
The door slammed shut. The engine growled, and the car surged forward once more.
Behind him, the vagrant lay groaning in the dirt left with nothing but exhaust smoke and the echo of what just passed.
Inside Cole, only one thought remained:
Time was running out.
And Lena was still missing.
Cole reached the location fast just as it had been described. A small office building wedged between the crumbling blocks of old factories on the southern edge of the city. The door was red, chipped from time and weather. A few men loitered out front. Not just any men street-worn, sharp-eyed, and alert. The kind that had seen too much and trusted too little.
The engine was still running, a low growl beneath the silence.
But Cole's patience was running thinner than the fumes in his tank.
Time was bleeding out.
He took a slow breath, rolled the window down just enough, and shouted:
"Hey!"
His voice bounced off the rusted walls like a warning shot.
One of the men turned.
Cole raised his voice again, sharper this time:
"Yeah, you! Look over here, you piece of shit!"
The man squinted at him, stepping forward with the swagger of someone who'd grown up in back alleys and learned nothing gentle.
"What the hell did you just say to me?"
Cole still hadn't moved. The door remained shut. His face held a calm, almost playful look.
"I said... look over here, you piece of shit.
And guess what? You did."
The man came closer now, tension rising in his shoulders.
"You got a death wish or something? Who the hell are you calling shit?"
Cole tilted his head slightly, a faint grin curling on his lips.
"You.
Why? We got a problem?"
That was the last straw.
The man surged forward, ready to rip the door open.
But Cole was faster.
He slammed the car door outward hard.
THUD!
It caught the man square in the ribs. He went down with a yell, rolling on the gravel, spitting curses and blood.
The others jumped, hands twitching toward weapons, confusion flashing in their eyes.
But Cole's voice cut through the air before anyone could move.
"Relax! I'm not here for trouble.
I just want to speak to your boss."
His tone was firm commanding but cold. Not a threat, but not a request either.
He hadn't stepped out of the car.
And he wouldn't… unless he had to.
Now he waited for the door behind those men to open.
Because if it didn't?
Then the door wouldn't be the only thing he'd break.