Page 4 of Carver’s Crusade

The next man who will receive a visit from Oyo.

I shut the Chromebook and slide it back into my bag. Tonight, Oyo will hunt again.

I keep my pace steady as I approach the strip of buildings, my boots quiet against the sidewalk. The gym comes into view first. The sign says it’s closed, but I see a faint light inside. Next to it, the dojo sits freshly renovated, its clean lines and new signage standing out.

I shift my attention back to the gym. The front is dark and empty. Circling to the back, I hear a voice. It’s sharp, agitated, and male. I slow, every step deliberate now, as I edge closer until I can see the small parking area behind the building. Tony’s yellow Mustang is the sole vehicle. Moving behind it, I keep low, using the shadows and the vehicle as cover. Angling up slightly, I glance through the back window into a cramped office.

Tony Martin stands inside. He’s pacing the small room like a caged animal. He has the phone clamped to his ear with one hand while the other drags through his hair. I can feel the tension rolling off him.

“…don’t care what you said—” he snaps, voice rising. “I’ve already paid. You hear me? You’ll find her if you know what’s good for you.”

I watch him, memorizing his rhythm. The anger. The entitlement.

It fits.

He stops pacing long enough to slam his hand against the desk, then yanks the phone away like he’s about to throw it before thinking better of it.

A second later, the light cuts off.

My muscles tighten.

It’s showtime.

The back door bursts open, and Tony storms out. He’s ranting and raving to himself. “Stupid bitch.”

He stalks toward his car. His energy is sharp, erratic, and unpredictable.

I consider abandoning my quest, but I’ve come too far. This bastard needs to go. So, I move. Fast and silent.

I come up behind him just as he reaches for the driver’s side door, the taser already in my hand. He moves just as I pull the trigger. That last-minute adjustment ruins everything. He twists, and instead of dropping, he jerks sideways with a strangled shout. The charge hits, but it isn’t enough to take him down.

“Son of—!”

He spins on me, eyes wild, and before I can reset, his fist connects with my jaw.

Pain explodes across my face, snapping my head to the side. I stumble, my vision blurring for half a second too long.

I’m too slow.

His hand clamps around my throat as he slams me against the car. Metal rattles behind me as he tightens his grip, cutting off my air. His face is inches from mine now, twisted with rage.

“Who the hell—”

I try to move. Try to bring the taser up again.

My arm won’t cooperate.

My lungs burn, desperate for air, but I can’t breathe. My vision starts to tunnel, dark creeping in at the edges. Tony’s fingers tighten, crushing.

The world narrows to the pressure, the pain, the suffocating weight of his grip.

Then—

Nothing.

Everything goes black.

CHAPTER 3: CARVER