Meanwhile.
The Gray Zone Club.
Silas’s fingers tightened around a note that had been folded and refolded. He’d picked it up at a dive bar before leaving Blackthorn territory—the final result of an investigation into Adrian that had passed through several sets of hands before reaching his.
The message was blunt: The Gray Zone Underground Boxing Ring.
Silas scanned it one last time, then crushed the paper into dust in his palm. The fragments drifted silently into the shadows at his feet. He picked up a tray of wine glasses and wiped his expression clean. He adopted the same look as the rest of the club staff—numb, indifferent, and bored by the sight of blood—as he wove through the spectators screaming around the blood-stained ring.
Silas knew his sources never missed. The Gray Zone was
