Wrench & Blood

The siege

The morning after the exposé, Blackhaven woke up angry.

Adam stood on the roof of his apartment building, watching the city stir. Smoke rose from a burned-out police cruiser on Fuller Street. Protesters clogged the intersection at Main and Fifth. News helicopters circled overhead like vultures.

“You started a war,” Sandra said, climbing up the fire escape to join him.

“No. I ended one.”

“This doesn't look like ending.”

She pointed to the south. A column of black smoke rose from the Docks. Another fire. Another message.

“Who's doing that?” Adam asked.

“Hard to say. Old loyalists trying to destroy evidence. Rival gangs taking advantage of the chaos. Or just people who are tired of being lied to.”

“Miller called. He said Harold Finch had a heart attack during his arrest. Died in the ambulance.”

Sandra's face tightened. “Convenient.”

“Very convenient.”

“You think someone helped him along?”

“I think powerful people don't like being exposed. And they have long memories.”

---

The garage was closed.

Adam had made the decision the night before. Gus and Teresa were sent home with two weeks' pay and instructions to stay safe. Nina was at her apartment, guarding it with a shotgun.

Leo called from Chicago.

“I've been monitoring police scanners. There are at least six active investigations tied to the names in your father's journal. The FBI is working with state police. Arrest warrants have been issued for twelve people.”

“How many have been arrested?”

“Four. Two are in hiding. The rest are... unaccounted for.”

“Including the businessman? The one who owned half the Docks?”

“Victor Markov? No relation to the other Victor. He's gone. His private jet left for Switzerland three hours before the story broke.”

“Someone tipped him off.”

“Someone with access to the investigation. Someone inside the FBI.”

Adam's jaw tightened. “Miller?”

“I don't think so. He's been fighting this for years. But someone in his office. Someone with a phone and a grudge.”

“Find them.”

“I'm trying.”

---

Miller arrived at the apartment at noon.

His face was haggard, his suit wrinkled. He hadn't slept.

“You've made a lot of enemies, Kosta.”

“I've had enemies before.”

“Not like these. These people have resources. They have connections. They have nothing to lose.”

“Neither do I.”

Miller sat down on the couch. He rubbed his eyes.

“The director is furious. He wanted to handle this quietly. Build cases slowly. Avoid public panic.”

“And now?”

“Now there's public panic. The mayor is calling for federal intervention. The governor is threatening to send in the National Guard.”

“That's not my problem.”

“It is if you want to stay alive.” Miller looked at him. “I can offer you protection. Witness protection. A new identity. You, Sandra, Leo, Nina. All of you.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you're on your own. And I can't guarantee your safety.”

“I never asked you to.”

---

The decision weighed on Adam all afternoon.

He walked through the apartment, room to room, touching things. Sandra's books. The photographs on the wall. The coffee mugs in the sink.

This was his life now. The life he'd built after Danny died. After the wars.

Could he leave it?

Sandra found him in the bedroom, staring at the closet.

“You're thinking about running.”

“I'm thinking about surviving.”

“Same thing.”

“Is it?”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “I've run before. From my family. From my past. From Cindy. It never works. The fear follows you. The memories follow you.”

“So what do I do?”

“You stay. You fight. You make them come to you.”

“That's what I've always done.”

“And you're still alive. Maybe that means something.”

---

At 6 PM, the power went out.

Adam tensed. He walked to the window, looked out at the street. The entire block was dark. No streetlights. No lights in the windows across the street.

“Sandra. Get your gun.”

She was already moving.

The power came back on thirty seconds later. But something had changed. The air felt different. Charged.

Adam's phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

“We know where you live. We know where you work. We know where she sleeps. Leave Blackhaven by midnight, or we start cleaning house.”

He showed Sandra.

“They're bluffing,” she said.

“Are they?”

“They would have come already if they weren't. This is a test. To see if you scare.”

“It's working.”

“Don't let it. Fear is how they control you.”

---

Adam called Nina.

“Did you lose power?”

“For about a minute. You?”

“Same. Someone's sending a message.”

“Or testing the grid. Seeing how easy it is to shut down.”

“Stay inside. Keep your gun close.”

“Always.”

---

The hours crawled by.

Adam sat in the dark, his gun on the table, Sandra beside him. The apartment was quiet. The city was quiet. Too quiet.

At 11:30 PM, headlights appeared in the street below.

A black SUV. Tinted windows. No plates.

It parked in front of the building. The engine cut. The doors opened.

Four men got out. Dressed in dark clothes. Faces obscured by masks.

Adam grabbed his gun. “They're here.”

Sandra was already at the window, watching.

“Three at the front. One going around back.”

“How do you want to play this?”

“We wait. Let them come to us. Home field advantage.”

The building's front door opened. Footsteps on the stairs. Heavy, deliberate.

Adam positioned himself behind the door. Sandra took cover behind the couch.

The footsteps stopped outside the apartment.

A knock.

“Adam Kosta. Open up. We just want to talk.”

Adam didn't answer.

The door exploded inward.

---

The first man through was large, carrying a battering ram. He stumbled when the door gave way. Adam fired twice. The man fell.

The second man had a pistol. He fired wildly, bullets tearing through the walls. Sandra returned fire. The man screamed and dropped.

The third man turned to run. Adam shot him in the back.

“Fourth,” Sandra said.

Adam ran to the window. The fourth man was climbing the fire escape.

He fired through the glass. The man lost his grip, fell, hit the ground.

Silence.

Then sirens.

---

Miller arrived with a swarm of police.

He walked through the apartment, stepping over bodies, his face grim.

“Four men. Armed. No identification. No plates on the SUV. Someone wanted you dead.”

“Someone wanted to send a message.”

“Did they?”

“They failed.”

Miller looked at Sandra, then at Adam. “You can't stay here. It's not safe.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“I have a safe house. Outside the city. You'll be protected.”

“For how long?”

“Until we catch whoever sent them.”

“That could take years.”

“Or days. Either way, you can't stay here.”

---

Adam packed a bag.

Clothes. Photographs. His father's journal. The gun.

Sandra packed her own bag. They stood in the doorway, looking at the apartment. The bullet holes. The bloodstains. The life they'd built, shattered.

“We'll come back,” Adam said.

“Will we?”

“We have to. This is our home.”

---

The safe house was a cabin in the woods, twenty miles outside Blackhaven.

Miller's people had stocked it with food, water, ammunition. No phone. No internet. Just a radio and a landline.

Adam stood on the porch, looking at the trees.

Sandra came out with two cups of coffee.

“It's peaceful,” she said.

“It's lonely.”

“It's temporary.”

“Everything is temporary.”

---

The next morning, the radio crackled with news.

“Four men were killed in a shootout in Iron District last night. Police are investigating. No suspects have been named.”

Adam turned it off.

“They're not going to catch anyone,” he said. “The people who sent those men are too high up. Too connected.”

“Then we catch them.”

“How?”

“The same way we always have. One step at a time.”

---

Leo called on the landline.

“I've been digging. The SUV was registered to a shell company. That company is owned by another shell company. The trail leads to a name.”

“Whose?”

“Victor Markov. The businessman who fled to Switzerland.”

“The same Victor who was in the journal?”

“The same. He sent those men. From Switzerland. He's not hiding. He's directing traffic.”

“Can you find him?”

“He's in a villa outside Geneva. I have the address.”

“Send it to Miller.”

“Already did.”

---

Miller called an hour later.

“We're requesting extradition. But it'll take time. He has good lawyers. Deep pockets.”

“Then I'll go to Switzerland.”

“You'll do no such thing. You're a witness. You're protected.”

“I'm a target. There's a difference.”

“Adam—”

“He sent men to kill me. To kill Sandra. I'm not going to sit in a cabin and wait for him to try again.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to finish this.”