Volume 2: The Rules of Survival in the Underground World
Summary: Kevin has been secretly investigating the truth behind Jack's downfall. He uncovers critical clues and shares them with Jack.
Chapter 10: Kevin's Investigation
Afternoon sunlight filtered through Manhattan's towering skyline, casting shifting shadows across the weathered face of Kevin O'Connor. His sunken eyes were bloodshot—clear signs that he hadn't slept in days. He sat hunched inside a secondhand Ford Taurus parked at a street corner, the window cracked open just enough to let in the stench of the city. The air was thick with cheap instant coffee and sweat, mingling in the cramped space like a fog of desperation. A crooked plastic Jesus figurine leaned against the windshield, silently watching the chaos unfold on the streets.
He had been here for two days now, tailing Isabella. She was an enigma—an alluring mystery wrapped in fear and silence.
Kevin had once been one of the NYPD's top anti-corruption investigators. He'd cracked major cases, made headlines, even earned a few commendations. His sharp eyes could spot a lie in someone's body language before their lips ever moved. But when he went after the wrong target—a powerful real estate tycoon tied to the mayor—he was thrown out of the force under false charges. His former colleagues now avoided him like a ghost. Now, he scraped by as a private investigator, chasing shadows for cash and trying not to drown in bitterness.
When Jack came to him, he hesitated. Working with a ragged, dirt-covered man who claimed to be framed didn't sound promising. But the stack of wrinkled hundred-dollar bills Jack handed over as a down payment—and the fire burning in his eyes—convinced Kevin. There was hatred there, yes—but also something familiar: defiance, and the raw sting of betrayal.
Across the street, the neon sign of The Blue Moon, a rundown bar on the edge of Hell's Kitchen, flickered erratically, as if mocking the city's endless stream of failures. This was where Isabella often appeared. Beautiful yet haunted, she carried herself with a strange mix of elegance and despair. From what Jack had told him, she was connected to several gang members—but from the way her eyes sometimes darted nervously, Kevin sensed a woman desperate to escape.
Time dragged on. Kevin shifted uncomfortably. He hated surveillance work—it was slow, dull, and frustrating. He scratched at his stubble, then pulled out his phone to check a message from Jack:
"Richard and The Butcher have been active. Watch your back. They might already know you're onto them."
That exclamation mark sent a chill through him. Richard Wilkes was dangerous—but this meant he was aware of the investigation sooner than expected.
Richard Wilkes. Just the name made Kevin's skin crawl. A Wall Street titan, always smiling in charity gala photos and featured in glossy business magazines. But beneath the polished exterior lay a cold, ruthless predator. Kevin had investigated his money-laundering operations years ago—offshore accounts, shell companies, complex transactions designed to vanish millions. But without solid evidence, he'd watched helplessly as Richard walked free, exploiting legal loopholes like a master manipulator. It was one of the few cases that still haunted him.
"Well," Kevin muttered to himself, lighting a cigarette, "looks like fate's giving me another shot." He inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine calm his nerves.
As he lit a second cigarette, the bar door opened. Isabella stepped out.
She wore a cheap red dress that clung to her thin frame, looking fragile under the dim streetlights. Her makeup was carefully applied, hiding dark circles and fatigue, but her eyes betrayed deep anxiety. The click of her heels echoed softly on the pavement.
Kevin crushed the cigarette, started the car, and followed discreetly. He kept his distance, careful not to draw attention. He watched as she entered a nearby pawn shop—Howard's Pawn & Loan.
He parked nearby, engine off, waiting. Through the dusty windows, antique clocks and tarnished silverware whispered stories of lives long past.
Half an hour later, Isabella emerged holding a thick envelope. Her expression was unreadable—relieved, yet tense. She clutched it tightly, as though it held her last hope.
She hailed a taxi. Kevin started the engine and followed. The cab weaved through New York's traffic, making a few turns before pulling up outside a high-end Italian restaurant in Brooklyn's DUMBO district—Luca's Kitchen. Known for its exquisite cuisine and steep prices, it catered to the city's elite.
"This should be interesting," Kevin thought. He knew Isabella couldn't afford such a place. So who was she meeting?
He parked farther down the block and used his high-powered binoculars to observe. Moments later, Isabella stepped out again, accompanied by a well-dressed man. He looked to be in his fifties, hair perfectly groomed, gold-rimmed glasses framing intelligent eyes. A tailored navy suit hugged his broad shoulders, and a Rolex watch glinted on his wrist. He spoke briefly with Isabella, handed her a business card, then slipped into a sleek black luxury sedan that pulled away smoothly.
Kevin jotted down the license plate number.
He drove up beside Isabella and rolled down the window. "Need a ride, Miss Isabella?"
She startled, stepping back cautiously. "Who are you? What do you want?" Her voice trembled with suspicion.
"Relax," Kevin said, raising his hands. "I just want to talk… about Richard Wilkes."
Her face paled instantly, lips losing color like she'd seen a ghost. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come on," Kevin pressed. "Do you really want to keep living like this? Always afraid, working for scum like him?"
Isabella stopped. Slowly, she turned. Her eyes searched his face—distrust, fear, but also a flicker of longing.
"What exactly do you want from me?"
"I want to help," Kevin said sincerely. "I can get you out from under Richard. Give you a normal life."
"Help?" she scoffed bitterly. "Why would you help me? You don't even know me."
"I know you don't want this life," Kevin replied. "And I know you want freedom."
She hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Follow me."
They drove to Brooklyn Beans, a quiet little café tucked between old buildings. Inside, they found a seat by the window. Kevin ordered black coffee—no sugar, no cream. Isabella chose hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.
"What do you want to know?" she asked, stirring her drink absentmindedly.
"Tell me what Richard is planning," Kevin asked directly. "What's his deal with The Butcher?"
She sighed, the scent of chocolate failing to soothe her. "I only know they're planning a deal at the docks. Details? None. Richard keeps things from me."
"What about The Butcher?" Kevin pressed. "What do you know about him?"
"He's a monster," she whispered, shivering. "Cold-blooded. Ruthless. If Richard's working with him, it's nothing good."
"What did you sell at the pawn shop?" Kevin asked. "And who was that man at the restaurant?"
She paused, then decided to speak. "A necklace. My mother's. It was all she left me…" Her voice wavered. "The man is a lawyer. I found him online. I'm trying to leave Richard. To start over."
"You're already moving," Kevin said. "Good. I'll connect you with a better lawyer. And I'll make sure you stay safe."
"Why are you helping me?" she asked, puzzled. "You barely know me."
"Because I believe you deserve a chance," Kevin said firmly. "And because Richard Wilkes owes me something."
She looked at him, and for the first time in years, hope flickered in her eyes.
Then his phone rang.
He answered. Jack's voice came through, urgent.
"Kevin, watch out! Richard and The Butcher are onto you. They know you're digging. They're driving a black Mercedes, license plate…"
"I got it," Kevin cut in and hung up. His face hardened.
"We've been found," he said. "We need to move. Now."
He grabbed Isabella's hand and led her quickly out of the café.
Meanwhile, deep inside a derelict warehouse at the dockside, Richard listened to his men's report with a storm brewing behind his eyes. He gripped a crystal glass of whiskey so tightly it trembled.
"Useless! All of you!" he roared, hurling the glass against the floor. Shards exploded outward. "How hard is it to take out a washed-up ex-cop?! Find them. Whatever it takes!"
Standing beside him, The Butcher wiped a blade clean, his face twisted into a cruel grin. "Don't worry, Mr. Wilkes. They'll learn soon enough that death is the kindest mercy I offer."
New York's night grew darker.
Rain began to fall, washing the city's sins in streaks of water. Kevin sped through the wet streets, tires screeching around corners.
The game had begun.
And this time, the stakes were life or death.