Chapter 6: Fifty Grand.

  "Shall we get started?"

  The words hung in the air, laced with unsettling ease. Grim narrowed his eyes. The woman’s smile didn’t falter. It wasn’t shallow yet.

  “Started with what?” he finally asked, the shadows of Redgate lingering behind him.

  Ash leaned against the rusted wall, her fingers lazily tracing the edges of her coat.

  “A job. Easy money. All you have to do, is deliver a package.”

  Grim didn’t respond. The underground wasn’t exactly a charitable place. Easy didn’t exist.

  “And you think I’m interested?” His voice remained cold.

  Ash’s smile widened.

  “It’s a simple gig. Pick it up. Drop it off. No questions.”

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  “No thanks.” He turned away, the distant hum of the underground echoing through the dim corridors.

  “Fifty grand.”

  Grim froze.

  “Excuse me?!”

  “Fifty grand,” she repeated, her voice nonchalant, as if tossing around numbers like that was a hobby of hers.

  Grim’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t naive. Money like that for a delivery? The strings attached were wrapped in chains. But the weight in his chest shifted. Fifty grand could change things. For once, the relentless pressure of the underground might just ease.

  “What’s the catch?” he asked, his voice barely above a growl.

  Ash shrugged.

  “No catch. Just a place people tend to avoid.”

  “Where?”

  “Warehouse 12. The old tunnels. You know the spot.”

  Grim did. The abandoned parts of the underground had long since rotted away, swallowed by silence. Rumors whispered of syndicates using those ruins for their business, but they were called abandoned for a reason.

  “And if I say no?”

  Ash chuckles softly.

  “Then you can walk away. But something tells me you won’t.”

  Grim hated how right she sounded.

  “Fine.” He spat the word like poison. “But I work alone.”

  “Of course,” Ash replied, the glint in her eyes lingering a little too long.

  He turned around walked away.

  The sound of his footsteps echoed as he disappeared into the shadows.

  Voice was quite. Atleast for now.