Chapter 6
The Secret Rendezvous in Chinatown
I hailed a battered yellow cab three blocks away from the subway station, paying the driver in crumpled cash from my secret emergency stash.
“Take me to Doyers Street in Chinatown,” I instructed, keeping my head down against the cracked vinyl seat.
The cab merged into the sparse late-night traffic, speeding past neon-lit storefronts and empty intersections.
My phone remained dead silent.
Dominic’s men would be watching every major transit hub and my bank accounts.
If I wanted to fight back, I couldn't rely on the law.
I needed professional help.
And Natalia’s envelope had contained a subtle hint—a handwritten address on the back of the bank statement: Unit 4B, 18 Doyers Street.
The cab dropped me off at the mouth of the notoriously winding, subterranean street.
The red lanterns flickered in the drizzle.
The smell of roasted duck and damp brick hung heavy in the air.
I walked down the dark corridor of an old tenement building until I found the heavy iron door marked 4B.
I raised my fist and knocked three times.
Once. Twice. Pause. Three times.
The peephole slid open with a metallic click.
A pair of cold blue eyes stared out at me from the darkness.
The bolt turned.
The door swung open, revealing Victor standing in a dimly lit hallway wearing a tactical turtleneck and holding a suppressed pistol at his side.
He looked me up and down, then stepped aside.
“You made it out faster than I expected,” Victor said in his deep, gravelly voice.
“Your men broke into my apartment five minutes ago,” I said, stepping inside and slamming the door behind me.
“Dominic is hunting me.”
Natalia stepped out from the kitchen holding a steaming mug of black tea.
She smiled faintly, her expression a mix of amusement and respect.
“Welcome to the real game, Clara,” Natalia said, handing me the mug.
“You just declared war on the most dangerous syndicate leader on the East Coast.”
“He murdered my father,” I said, taking the mug with steady hands.
“And he’s going to pay for every single day he stole from us.”
Victor nodded slowly, setting his pistol down on the mahogany table.
May you like
“Good,” Victor said.
“Because we’ve been trying to clip Dominic’s wings for two years. And you are the only person with the financial clearance code to unlock his offshore server.”
