Matthew Silva's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Matthew left the outpost with the stranger's terms still ringing in his head. He drove straight to the safehouse where his next recruit was supposed to be waiting. The door hung open. The room was empty. Three things had been set on the bare table, lined up like a sentence. A sleek dagger stood point-down, driven clean through the wood. Beside it lay a gold coin, an owl's sharp eyes staring up at the ceiling. Between them sat a folded note in careful, slanted script. Matthew unfolded the paper. The handwriting warned him off the convoy by name. He stepped back to the window. In the lot below, his recruit's car sat with every door open, the same owl mark burned black into the hood, big enough to read from the rooftops. Matthew pocketed the coin and the note. He left the blade where it stood. His recruit was gone, and someone with real reach wanted him to know it. The convoy job was no longer a secret. It was an invitation, and others had already accepted.