Page 26 of Nocturne
This ain’t about turf wars.
It’s something way bigger, a chess move that could blow everything up.
I feel the weight of it hit me, like I just cracked open the door to a world where the rules don’t apply, and if I’m not careful, it’s gonna swallow me whole.
"Because of scum like you..." I kick him again. "...my brother’s dead, you miserable piece of shit!"
This asshole’s gonna be my message. They need to understand: messing with me — with the Nocturne — is like signing your own fucking death certificate.
If they think I’m just gonna sit back and watch Midnight grow, screwing everything up again and again... they’ve got it twisted.
Soon, they’ll get a little gift, a loud-ass warning that there’s no room for weakness around here.
This war’s just getting started.
And I’m gonna prove that anyone who challenges the Nocturne pays the price.
I haul his limp body over my shoulder — feel the weight of the mess he’s gotten himself into — ready to dump him in the trunk.
And then, a shadow steps into view. On a motorcycle.
A shadow that’s been on my ass since that street race — maybe even before. I don’t even know anymore.
It’s Hunter.
The bastard who reminds me every damn day why I hate this fake-ass truce between Nocturne and Iron Requiem. The bastard who fuels every reason I have to never, ever let my guard down.
He stares at me with that look — like he’s trying to read straight through me. His face is a punch — sharp jawline, eyes full of questions and challenges. That messy black hair just pisses me off more.
But what really cuts me is the air of superiority he wears, like he’s the king of this filthy game, and I’m just some pawn trying not to drown.
The silence between us is heavier than anything either of us could say.
“You’re not gonna do this,” I say.
“Easy, Damon. I’m not here to mess anything up… just wanted to remind you I'm still one step ahead.” He swings the helmet onto his arm and revs the bike, disappearing out of sight.
Hunter’s a fucking prick. And not just the annoying kind you can brush off, he’s the kind that shows up outta nowhere, follows you around like a damn shadow, thinking nobody’s noticing. He’s always lurking, watching me, like he’s got some twisted obsession he can’t shake. And I don’t get it. I never have. We’re from rival crews. That’s how it’s always been. There’s no reason for him to be thislocked in on me, and every time I catch him tailing me again, the urge to beat the shit out of him gets stronger. The second I get the green light, I’m putting him in the ground so deep even Iron Requiem won’t be able to piece him back together.
I’m driving through the streets of Boston, one hand steady on the wheel, the other itching from the weight of what I’ve got in the trunk. Midnight wanted a message — cold, dirty, and loud enough no one could ignore it. This ain’t the kind of move you walk back from. It crosses a line. But I don’t give a damn. They asked for this. And I’m here to deliver. This is the kind of shit that’s gonna put Aiden on edge. Make him realize playtime’s over.
I pull up near one of Midnight’s spots — one of those tucked-away houses in a dead-ass block, curtains drawn, silence dripping from the walls. I scope everything out. The street, the lights, the rooftops. Not a sound. I slide into an alley right beside it, shadows swallowing me whole, and pop the trunk. The guy’s still in there, knocked out cold, slumped to the side in the trunk, barely breathing from the beating. I pull my gun, take a breath, and fire five shots straight into his chest. No warning. No hesitation. The blasts rip through the closed metal, blood spilling fast beneath him.
I think the message is loud and fucking clear now.
?????
I’m in the same room where we had the first meeting with O’Connor, Carter, and the crew from mygang. The big dogs stand by the whiteboard, scribbling info, the harsh white ceiling light throwing a vibe that’s almost depressive.
My mind’s still stuck on the hit I pulled — no regrets, just the kind of memories that’ve been mine for years. Emma and Vincent look restless, like they want to pull me aside and ask what the hell I did, but this isn’t the right moment for that.
Carter’s standing in front of the whiteboard, marking something with his pen like every word’s an order. The room light hits him dead-on, making his broad shoulders under that crisp white shirt look even bigger — the shirt fits him just right, no slack, no loose ends. He always shows up like this — light button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark dress pants, and that heavy metal watch gleaming on his left wrist when he points. Dude looks like he walked straight out of some manual on how to intimidate without saying a word.
His face is serious, kinda square-shaped, with that scruffy beard giving off the vibe of a man who’s seen too much shit to waste time on bullshit. His eyes are sharp, focused, and his expression barely shifts — but when it does, shit hits the fan. Forty-something, maybe less, hard to tell. His hair’s cut clean, slicked to the side, everything about him screams control. Carter doesn’t need to raise his voice to shut everyone up — just one look from him does the trick.
O’Connor looks a bit older than Carter — mid-forties, probably — and carries a kind of weight on his shoulders that isn’t just from age but from choices made.It’s his eyes that get under your skin: direct, calculating, like he’s already seen everyone’s worst and is just waiting for the right moment to use that knowledge. His messy salt-and-pepper hair, well-groomed beard, and dark shirt with an open collar paint a picture of control — almost charm. But everything about him screams silent danger. He holds his pen like it’s just another weapon, one that doesn’t spill blood but leaves scars.
That’s why I don’t trust that motherfucker. Not him, not anyone from Iron Requiem. They never do anything without a catch. Carter’s always been sharp — no doubt — but you can’t sleep on guys like that. O’Connor’s got that kind of presence that’s too calm to be real. He talks like he’s offering help, but every word sounds like a trap. And I know that game.
