Author Note:
Thank you for giving this story a chance.
This is my first novel, and English isn't my first language. I know the early chapters might not be perfect—but every chapter you read helps me grow as a writer, and I promise, it gets better. If you stick with it, you'll see the world, the story, and the characters evolve alongside my writing.
I've already gone back and improved the first 10 chapters to make them more readable. They're still not on the level of my current work—but they're much stronger than before. If you've ever enjoyed watching something gradually take shape and improve, I hope this story will resonate with you.
If you have thoughts or suggestions, constructive reviews are always appreciated. I read and consider every one. But if you're just here to drop a one-star and call it "trash," that kind of feedback doesn't help anyone.
I'll keep things short. This novel is something I'm building step by step, with effort and care. If you decide to follow along, even just for a while, I truly appreciate it—and I hope the journey proves worth your time.
Welcome to Volume 1: Whispers of the Records.
USA, Arcvale City, Downtown — June 16, 2025
As midnight approached, the streets of Downtown remained as lively—and dangerous—as ever, teeming with beggars, thugs, and shadows that whispered of violence. This was a crime-infested zone, a place the wealthy and well-off wouldn't dare set foot in. Safety was a luxury no one could afford here. Between the ever-present gangs and nimble-fingered pickpockets, your pockets—and sometimes your life—could vanish in a blink.
In the heart of this chaos stood a 'beautiful' three-story apartment building, almost untouched by graffiti—a rare sight in this part of the city. This was the headquarters of the Crow, the gang that held a ruthless grip on Downtown. Drug trafficking, theft, murder—there wasn't a line they wouldn't cross, not if there was money to be made. If it paid, they did it.
At the very top, on the third and final floor, resided the gang's boss: Mikael Angelini. An orphan born and raised in these very streets, Mikael understood Downtown better than anyone. It was in his blood. At just fourteen, he had founded the Crow. Since then, the gang had grown steadily, swallowing rivals and spreading influence until they ruled Downtown like undisputed lords.
Inside Mikael's apartment, in a modern bedroom furnished with a large double bed, a bedside table topped with an alarm clock, and a sleek wardrobe, a tall, striking young man lay on the bed. He had black hair, a well-sculpted body, defined muscles, and faint abs visible beneath the sheets. He stood at an imposing 6'2" (188 cm), his very presence exuding control and danger.
When Mikael stirred awake, the first thing to catch the eye was the brilliant green of his eyes—like two polished emeralds. Instinctively, his hand slid beneath his pillow and grasped the cold metal of his handgun, just as it did every morning.
'I have a feeling today's going to be special... and probably not in a good way, considering my luck,' he mused with a faint smirk.
Without wasting time, Mikael made his way to the bathroom to take his usual morning shower. Once done, he dressed himself in a crisp white T-shirt, black cargo pants, and a stylish black jacket that added to his dangerous allure. Naturally, he didn't forget to holster his Glock 17 at his waist.
'If I forget my Glock, I might end up "committing suicide" in a forest with six bullets in my back… Haha how strong would be to be able to commit suicide like this…No, seriously, I'd have to be an idiot to trust anyone around me. The moment I look weak or undefended, I'm dead. And trust me—the first ones to kill me won't be my enemies. It'll be my own guys, before anyone else gets the chance.'
"Ring Ring Ring"
The shrill ringtone cut through the silence. Mikael reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and glanced at the screen. Jamar. Probably the only person in the entire gang who could be described as somewhat loyal.
'He knows damn well that without me, his sister would be out there selling her body for scraps,' Mikael thought, his tone inwardly ironic. 'It's not like I trust him—I don't trust anyone. But that guy? He practically placed his sister's life in my hands.'
He answered the call.
"Hello Boss, there's a situation with a cop," came Jamar's irritated voice. "She's messing with my guys."
"They're at it again, huh? Who is it this time?"
"No idea what her name is, but she's some rookie cop. Small thing. Doesn't understand how things work around here."
"You should've handled this yourself," Mikael replied, voice laced with frustration. "But fine. I'll deal with it. You're coming with me though—so next time, you will know how to handle it. Send me the address. It'll take me at least thirty minutes to get there."
"We're at the park on 21st North Street," Jamar responded without hesitation.
Mikael ended the call immediately after. And sighed "I swear this guy is really a burden sometimes but I can only cope with him as he is loyal which is a lot more than can be said with other more competent of my men."
Without wasting anymore time, he downed a quick breakfast, left his apartment, and headed to the garage. His car—a sleek black 2024 Acura Integra—awaited him. He slid into the driver's seat, turned the key, and roared out of the garage, tires screeching slightly as he accelerated.
Roughly twenty minutes later, he arrived at his destination. It was a small park nestled among crumbling buildings, surprisingly quiet and brimming with overgrown greenery that gave it a peaceful atmosphere—almost out of place in Downtown.
Sitting on a weathered bench, Mikael spotted a tall, heavily built African American man with long dreadlocks. The moment Mikael stepped out of the car, the man stood up and approached him.
"Boss Mikael," Jamar said as he neared, "the cop's across the street. Full uniform, not even trying to be subtle. She's waiting there like she wants to catch the guys red-handed while they're dealing. I think she's trying to apply pressure—make it so they can't move anything."
"I'll handle her," Mikael said, his voice cold and calm. "You're coming with me. Don't say a word. Just watch, listen, and learn."
Mikael began walking toward the police car, with Jamar trailing behind in silence. On the other side of the street, standing casually against her patrol vehicle, was a young woman in uniform. She didn't flinch as they approached—instead, her honey-colored eyes locked on them with measured curiosity. She looked to be in her early twenties, with mid-length blonde hair tied loosely behind her head. Her dark blue police uniform was crisp and form-fitting, accentuated by a name tag on her right shoulder that read Leia. A nightstick and a taser were strapped to her belt, along with a regulation Glock secured firmly at her waist.
Despite the tension in the air, her tone was professional, even curious, as she spoke up. "Hello, how can I help you?"
Mikael met her gaze directly, offering a polite yet calculated smile. "Hello, Miss Leia. Ever heard the saying, curiosity killed the cat? Because I've been told there's a cat snooping around where it really shouldn't be."
Leia's brow furrowed, instantly recognizing the veiled threat beneath his words. Her reply was sharp and firm. "I'm just doing my job—being curious and investigating criminal activity in Downtown is part of that."
"I understand and I can respect this as a law abiding citizen," Mikael replied smoothly, his tone steady. "But from what I've heard, the last officer who got a little too curious met a rather tragic end. Apparently, he walked in on a robbery, startled the burglars, and ended up dead before they fled the scene. A real shame."
"I don't scare easily," Leia answered, her voice steady despite the flicker of fear in her eyes. "I'm not going to stand by and let people like you operate with impunity anymore."
Mikael's expression didn't change, but his voice dropped, colder now. "You should think this through very carefully, Miss Leia. Who said the accident would happen to you? Maybe it'll be some random family... or even your mother. Hard to predict these things."
The color drained from her face. Her confidence faltered for a moment as she absorbed the full weight of the implication. Her horror was evident.
"How could you be so vile?" she asked, her voice trembling with outrage. "Why involve innocent people—my family—just because you have a problem with me?"
Mikael let out a faint chuckle, visibly entertained by her reaction.
'These goody-two-shoes types are always so easy to deal with,' he thought, amused. 'All it takes is the mention of innocent lives being in danger, and they panic. They want to fight back, sure—but they also want to protect everyone. That's the weakness you exploit.'
"You misunderstood me," he said aloud, tone suddenly calm again. "I'm not threatening anyone. I'm simply describing a possible scenario. That's all."
Before Leia could muster a reply, Jamar—who had been unusually quiet until now—suddenly pointed at the sky with wide eyes.
"Boss, look at the sky—what the fuck is that? Either I'm hallucinating, or I really have taken too much shit lately," he said, astonished.