Chapter Twelve — The Murdered Son
Chapter Nine — The Murdered Son
The city announced Vinny’s death before sunrise.
Avery heard it from beneath a collapsed transit bridge three districts away while Poison
City woke around her in flashes of green emergency lights and rain-soaked sirens.
She hadn’t slept.
Couldn’t.
Every time she closed her eyes she saw blood, darkness, the apartment door exploding
inward — and Vinny shoving her toward the fire escape instead of himself.
Run.
The word still echoed through her head like a wound.
Avery sat hidden beneath rusted support beams wrapped tightly in her coat while early
morning fog drifted low across the flooded streets nearby.
The leather bag remained strapped against her hip.
Still there.
Still safe.
The data drive Vinny gave her burned heavy inside her pocket.
She hadn’t looked at it yet.
Fear stopped her every time her fingers brushed against it.
Above the street, giant screens mounted across old skyscrapers flickered alive one by one.
Emergency broadcast.
The Moretti serpent spread silver across the skyline.
Then—
Vinny’s face appeared.
Avery physically stopped breathing.
His official House portrait filled the screen.
Dark curls pushed neatly back.
Sharp suit collar.
That easy crooked smile he rarely used around his family.
Alive.
For one horrible hopeful second—
Then the words appeared beneath him.
VINCENT MORETTI DEAD AT 27.
Avery’s entire body went numb.
No.
No no no—
“The eldest son of House Moretti was found deceased late last night following a suspected
biohazard attack tied to registered contaminant activity—”
The world tilted violently sideways.
Avery grabbed the concrete support beside her hard enough her gloves scraped stone.
No.
The announcer continued speaking calmly while the city moved around her like nothing
had shattered.
“Authorities confirm Vincent Moretti suffered catastrophic toxin exposure consistent with
contamination-class bioweapon signatures.”
Bioweapon.
Her stomach turned so hard she nearly vomited.
“House Moretti has issued immediate containment orders and elevated kill authorization
for the registered contaminant known as Avery Quinnly Nimh—”
Her name echoed across Poison City.
Publicly.
Openly.
Wanted.
Hunted.
The screens shifted instantly.
Her face appeared next.
Old registry photo.
Pale skin.
Dark hair.
Blank terrified eyes staring back at her from fifty-foot city screens.
BIOHAZARD THREAT.
EXTREME CONTAMINATION RISK.
DO NOT APPROACH.
The city had officially turned her into a monster.
Avery couldn’t breathe.
Vinny was dead.
Dead.
The word repeated endlessly through her skull without meaning anything.
Because she still expected him to walk around the corner smiling.
Still expected another stupid flower bouquet.
Another joke.
Another impossible act of kindness.
Dead people weren’t supposed to feel this alive inside memory.
Rain began falling again softly through the broken bridge overhead.
Avery stared at the screen while grief hollowed her out from the inside.
The announcer’s voice continued somewhere far away now.
“Citizens are reminded that physical contact with registered contaminants may result in
fatal exposure—”
Fatal exposure.
Vinny’s blood in the sink.
Black veins beneath skin.
His body collapsing against hers.
Poison me.
A sound escaped Avery then.
Small.
Broken.
Animal.
Because the worst part wasn’t the city believing she killed him.
The worst part was—
maybe she had.
A convoy of Moretti enforcers roared through the streets nearby moments later, sirens
slicing violently through the rain.
People scattered instantly.
Some stared at the wanted screens.
Others whispered already.
“The Poison Girl.”
“She killed a Moretti.”
“I heard she melts people from the inside.”
Fear spread beautifully in Poison City.
Fear always traveled fastest.
Avery pulled her hood lower and stumbled backward deeper beneath the ruins before
anyone could look too closely at her face.
Vinny was gone.
And the entire city now wanted her dead for it.
By nightfall, the bounty reached one million credits.
Dead preferred.
Alive if possible.
Avery watched the numbers climb from the reflection of a broken pharmacy window while
rain streaked endlessly down the glass.
Her own face stared back at her from every city screen nearby.
WANTED.
CONTAMINATION CLASS OMEGA.
EXTREME CONTACT FATALITY RISK.
The Poison Girl.
The city finally had a monster to unite against.
People looked at each other differently now.
Fearfully.
Hungrily.
A million credits could buy clean air for generations.
People would kill their own families for less.
Avery pulled her hood lower and kept moving.
Flood line District smelled like wet rust and chemical runoff tonight. Most businesses had
already sealed shut behind reinforced gates after the bounty announcement. Even
scavengers avoided the streets now.
Nobody wanted accidental proximity to a hunted biohazard.
Good.
That meant fewer people died because of her.
The thought should’ve comforted her.
Instead it made the grief worse.
Vinny would’ve hated seeing the city like this.
No.
Vinny would’ve joked about it first.
Then quietly fixed whatever he could afterward.
Avery’s throat tightened painfully.
Dead.
She still couldn’t make the word feel real.
The leather bag at her hip felt heavier tonight.
Every step reminded her the journal now held thirty-three names.
Not thirty-two.
Her stomach twisted violently.
She hadn’t written his page yet.
Couldn’t.
Because writing it meant accepting it.
A train screamed somewhere overhead through broken rails.
Avery flinched instinctively and ducked into a narrow alley between two flooded buildings.
The city felt wrong now.
Sharper.
Predatory.
Every sound carried danger.
Every shadow looked armed.
She reached automatically for the small knife hidden beneath her coat.
Useless comfort.
Then—
footsteps.
Not loud.
Not rushed.
Controlled.
Someone was following her.
Avery’s pulse slowed dangerously.
Fear sharpened her senses strangely now.
The footsteps stopped when she stopped.
Professional.
Not scavenger-level.
Not desperate enough.
A hunter.
Rainwater dripped steadily from fire escapes overhead while green city light flickered
weakly across flooded pavement.
Avery slowly backed deeper into the alley.
Dead end.
Wonderful.
The footsteps resumed.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Then a man stepped from the shadows.
Tall.
Black coat soaked dark from rain.
Lean build.
Gloves.
Sharp silver-gray eyes catching the green city light like blades.
Everything about him looked precise.
Dangerously precise.
The stranger studied Avery silently for one long second.
Not lust.
Not fear.
Assessment.
Like he was deciding where to place a knife.
Avery’s grip tightened around her own blade.
“You found me,” she whispered.
The man’s gaze flicked briefly toward the weapon in her hand.
Then back to her face.
“You’re smaller than I expected.”
His voice was calm.
Low.
Controlled.
Not mocking.
Somehow that felt worse.
Avery took another careful step backward.
The alley wall pressed cold against her spine.
“If you’re here for the bounty,” she said quietly, “don’t touch me.”
Rain slid slowly down the stranger’s dark hair.
He tilted his head slightly at that.
Almost curious.
“I know what you are.”
The words should’ve sounded cruel.
Instead they sounded clinical.
Which frightened her more.
The man’s eyes moved briefly toward the leather bag at her hip.
Recognition flickered there instantly.
The journal.
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
Then—
“You kept them.”
Avery froze.
Nobody understood the journal except Vinny.
Nobody.
Her pulse stumbled painfully at the thought of him.
Dead.
Still dead.
The stranger noticed the shift in her face immediately.
Observant.
Too observant.
“You loved him,” he said quietly.
Not a question.
Avery’s throat closed.
“Leave.”
The man ignored that completely.
Instead he reached slowly inside his coat.
Avery raised the knife instantly.
“Don’t.”
His movements never changed pace.
Calm.
Precise.
He withdrew a folded kill contract and held it loosely between gloved fingers.
Rain soaked the paper edges instantly.
Avery saw the Moretti seal before she saw anything else.
Her stomach dropped.
Official House authorization.
Execution order.
Target: Avery Quinnly Nimh.
Alive optional.
The world narrowed sharply around her.
The assassin watched her face carefully while rain hammered the alley around them.
Then quietly—
almost gently—
he said:
“My name is Blaine Morana.”
The Black Vein assassin had finally found her.