Volume 5: Wall Street Rises Again
Volume Summary: Jack returns to Wall Street, only to find that things are far more complex than he imagined. Richard's remaining influence still lingers, and a far greater conspiracy awaits him. He must proceed with extreme caution if he is to eliminate these threats and restore order to Wall Street.
Chapter 2: Undercurrents
Kevin's concerns were not unfounded. At the very moment Jack and Kevin reunited inside Starbucks, a black, extended Lincoln limousine—its tinted windows so deep they seemed to swallow all light—glided silently into a grimy alleyway near the café. The alley was littered with trash bins and graffiti, the kind of place where secrets thrived in shadows.
The window rolled down slowly, revealing a face carved from granite—hard, unyielding, and emotionless. It was Johnson, Richard's most trusted enforcer.
Johnson narrowed his sharp, hawk-like eyes and peered through the frosted glass of the café. His gaze locked onto Jack, who sat near the window, unaware of being watched. Three years on the streets hadn't dulled the fire in Jack's spirit. Though he wore plain clothes now, there was still a spark in his eyes—unmistakable, dangerous.
"Tough little bastard," Johnson muttered under his breath, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Boss was right—he always had to come back. Looks like we'll have to send him to hell sooner than planned."
From a finely crafted Italian leather briefcase, he pulled out a custom satellite phone—one immune to any form of surveillance or tracking. These were used exclusively for handling "special matters."
"This is Johnson," he said in a low, rapid tone. "Target has surfaced. He's at the Starbucks on Wall Street… Yes, Jack Lane. There's another man with him—slim guy, must be his old colleague, Kevin Brown… Clean job. No loose ends. Make it look like an accident… I'll handle the rest."
He ended the call, his expression darkening further. With a silk handkerchief, he meticulously wiped his hands, as if even touching the phone had dirtied him. He gave a slight wave, and two burly men in the backseat opened the doors and stepped out.
Dressed in perfectly tailored black suits and identical mirrored sunglasses, they looked like assassins straight out of a Hollywood thriller. One of them bore a terrifying tattoo coiled around his arm, its ink glistening ominously under the sunlight.
"Make it clean. No traces," Johnson ordered coldly, his voice slicing through the air like ice. "I don't want any complaints. Collect payment at the usual spot once it's done."
The two men nodded silently, their discipline evident. Without a word, they melted into the darkness of the alley, vanishing without a sound.
Inside the café, Jack and Kevin's conversation continued, but the tension between them grew heavier.
"Golden Stone Capital has become Richard's kingdom," Kevin said anxiously, stirring his coffee. "He's built a loyal inner circle, all well-paid and willing to do anything for him. And worse—he's bought off some media outlets to smear his enemies and cover his tracks."
"Media?" Jack smirked faintly. "That's an interesting angle."
"There's something else, Jack…" Kevin hesitated, clearly uneasy. "What happened to you wasn't just Richard's doing. He had backing from someone bigger—someone I've never managed to identify."
Jack's eyes narrowed, a flash of cold fury flickering within them. "I figured as much. Richard's just a puppet. The real power lies with those pulling the strings from the shadows."
Suddenly, a primal sense of danger surged through Jack's body. A hunter's instinct told him death was closing in. He felt two sets of hostile eyes locking onto him. Calmly, he scanned the room, searching for the source of the threat.
His gaze landed on two tall men in black suits who had just entered the café. Their presence was unnatural—cold, calculated, exuding a pressure that didn't belong in a casual setting. Their faces were unreadable behind dark glasses, but Jack knew exactly what they were.
Without hesitation, he gripped Kevin's arm and pulled him behind him. "We need to leave. Now."
Kevin didn't ask questions. He saw the icy seriousness in Jack's expression and understood the gravity of the situation. He stood up immediately, ready to follow.
But it was already too late.
The two men advanced like ghosts, their steps slow yet heavy, each one tightening the invisible noose around them. The air thickened, suffocating.
Jack positioned himself protectively in front of Kevin, muscles tensed, mind racing through every possible escape route, analyzing every detail, calculating every risk.
Richard had wasted no time. The hunt had begun.
Just as the killers closed in, the café door burst open with a loud bang, shattering the tense silence. A young girl wearing a faded denim jacket and a dirty baseball cap stormed in, panting heavily, clutching a thick folder.
"Mr. Kevin! Mr. Kevin Brown!" she shouted. "Your contract has been approved! Please come sign it!"
Her sudden appearance disrupted everything. The two men faltered instinctively, shifting their attention toward her.
Jack seized the opportunity without hesitation. He grabbed Kevin's wrist and yanked him toward the back exit.
"Move. Don't ask questions. Trust me." His voice was calm, commanding.
Though confused, Kevin followed without protest. They sprinted through the back door and vanished into the bustling crowd outside, like drops of water dissolving into the ocean.
Inside, the two men realized they'd been tricked. Rage flared in their eyes.
"Damn it! We lost them!" one growled furiously, slamming his fist into the wall, leaving a deep crack.
"Johnson gave orders—we finish this," the other said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. "We find them. No matter what it takes."
Without delay, they split up and began combing the streets and alleys like bloodhounds hunting prey.
Jack and Kevin ran until they reached a quiet alley, finally catching their breath.
"What the hell was that? Who were those guys?" Kevin asked, his voice trembling with fear and confusion.
"They were sent by Richard," Jack replied, his tone chilling. "He knows I'm back. He wants me dead before I can do anything about it."
Kevin turned pale. "Richard… he's really capable of this?"
"He's ten times worse than you think," Jack said coldly. "To protect his empire, to bury his crimes, he'll stop at nothing. Not even betraying those closest to him."
Jack took a deep breath, suppressing the rage burning inside him. "We're in danger, Kevin. Richard won't let us go easily. He'll use everything he has to hunt us down. We need to find shelter, regroup, and plan our next move."
"What do we do now?" Kevin asked, panic rising in his voice.
Jack's eyes burned with determination. "We don't run. We don't hide. We fight back. We expose his crimes. We make him pay for every life he's destroyed."
He paused, his voice steady and lethal. "It's time the rats hiding in the dark learned the power of the sun."
Just then, Jack's phone rang. An unknown number appeared on the screen.
He hesitated, then answered.
"Jack Lane?" a low, gravelly male voice came through the speaker—devoid of warmth.
"That's me. Who is this?" Jack asked cautiously.
"I know you're in danger. Richard Harris is after you."
Jack frowned. "How do you know that?"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is—I can help you." A pause. "I'll be waiting at Grand Central Station. Platform One. Ten minutes."
The line went dead.
Jack stared at the phone, suspicion and wariness flooding his mind. Who was this man? Why would he help? Was this another trap?
"Who was that?" Kevin asked nervously.
"A stranger. He wants me to meet him at Grand Central."
"Grand Central? That's too risky! Too many people. Richard's men could be everywhere."
"I know," Jack replied. "But we don't have a choice. If he's genuine, he might be our best chance."
He took a deep breath, resolve hardening his features. "Come on, Kevin. Let's go to Grand Central."
A far more dangerous game was about to begin. Beneath Wall Street's polished surface, the tides were shifting. A battle for power—and survival—was about to erupt.