Page 52 of Throne of Secrets

He moved outward, scanning nearby traffic cameras, storefront security feeds—anything that might have captured their faces with better clarity. Within minutes, he had them.

The system whirred as it analyzed the images, running a cross-check against criminal databases.

While the software processed the ID match, Ethan turned his attention to another matter—the serial killer.

He fired off an encrypted email from a cloaked Guardian Security address to the mayor’s office, offering assistance on the case. Of course, that required the case number, which meant hacking into the NYPD’s system.

Again.

Old hat.

It took him less than two minutes to access the relevant files. He skimmed through the data, cross-referenced the details, and composed the email before sending it. He then shot a quick message to Jason and courtesy copied Max, informing him that Guardian was now assisting in finding a serial killer and that more information would follow.

With that handled, he dug deeper.

He gathered case notes on all three murders—the two previous ones and the one Star had quite literally stumbled into. His system ran search parameters, sifting through reports, autopsies, and forensic evidence to find patterns. Then, he set up a secondary search, cross-referencing similar homicides in the region to determine whether there were additional victims that hadn’t yet been connected to the serial killer’s file.

The system processed at speeds no government or private security network could match.

A soft chime alerted him. Ethan pivoted his attention back to the ID match on the two individuals from the surveillance footage.

The results flashed across the screen. Low-level scum. Petty records—one for assault, another for robbery—but no known affiliations with any gang or Mafia family. Independent players. He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing.

Could it really be that these two assholes had just decided to randomly harass Mrs. Harvey? His gut said no.No way in hell.

Ethan pulled the raw camera footage and began stitching the angles together, reconstructing a seamless video of the night’s events. The finished product played smoothly, frame by frame, and the entire timeline was laid bare.

He watched as the two men walked down the street, their pace casual but deliberate. They entered Mrs. Harvey’s deli and loitered, pretending to browse while waiting for the last customer to leave. The moment the door shut behind the departing patron, they approached the counter.

Ethan couldn’t make out much from the angle across the street, but the tension in the footage was undeniable. The way Mrs. Harvey’s posture shifted. The way one of the men leaned in, his gestures aggressive. The shorter man put his boot through the display case. Then, as they left, one of the bastards clenched his fist and drove it straight into the deli’s plate glass window.

The spiderwebbed fracture in the glass was the same one Ethan had seen earlier that day.

His jaw locked. His pulse was a slow, steady beat of anger.

Who the hell were they working for?

And what the fuck did they want with Mrs. Harvey?

Ethan’s fingers flexed over the keyboard, his mind already calculating his next move.

Time to dig deeper. The question was, why did they stay? What did they get out of the situation? Mrs. Harvey hadn’t said she was robbed. She’d said she was harassed. Ethan stared at the two men frozen on the screen.

All right, this doesn’t make sense now, but I’ll follow you.

Meticulously, he pieced together video footage of the men leaving the area. His eyes tracked their movements, catching the moment they slid into an old vehicle parked a block away. He zoomed in and captured the license plate. Within seconds, he ran it through the system.

Stolen. Of course.

He traced the car’s route through traffic cameras, following its path as it snaked toward the city. His jaw tightened. Why the hell would someone from Manhattan come all the way to Ditmas Park just to trash one deli’s display case? He lost them when they entered a parking garage.

Fine.

Ethan hacked into the cameras near the garage and waited. It took five minutes before the men reappeared. When they exited, they split up. He frowned and moved closer to the screen.That’s interesting.

One took the subway. Ethan tapped into the transportation authority’s camera system, tracking the man’s movements through multiple stations until he reached a quiet residential neighborhood. The guy entered a small apartment building. Ethan logged the address and instructed his system to start pulling background information on the occupant.

The second man didn’t go home. Instead, he went to a nightclub. Ethan watched as the man strode right past the long line at the entrance. No waiting. No hesitation. The bouncer barely acknowledged him before waving him through the line and inside.

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