7: Peril at Every Turn
Summary: During his investigation of Richard, Kevin uncovers a new clue pointing to a close connection between Richard and a mysterious investor.
Chapter 3: A New Lead
The night wind sliced across Jack's face like a cold blade. He walked quickly through the dim alleyways, avoiding corners that reeked of alcohol and urine. He needed to find Rat—fast. Only Rat could provide the help he so desperately needed: medicine, food, and, if possible, a weapon to give him peace of mind.
Rat lived up to his name. Like a real rat, he thrived in the dark underbelly of New York, always sniffing out secrets and opportunities. He had an uncanny ability to sense money and would stop at nothing to chase it down. Back when Jack ruled Wall Street, they had crossed paths on more than one occasion—deals that couldn't be done in the light of day often passed through Rat's hands. They weren't exactly friends, but there was a mutual understanding. Now, after all this time, Jack just hoped Rat still remembered him.
Turning a corner cluttered with trash bags and broken glass, Jack finally spotted Rat's hideout—a dilapidated little shop barely clinging to existence. The paint had long since peeled off the front door, revealing rusted metal beneath. A crooked sign above the entrance read "Antique Goods – Everything Available," though the dim lighting inside and the pile of garbage outside made that claim seem almost laughable.
Jack took a deep breath and pushed open the creaking wooden door. A sharp smell hit him immediately—stale dust, moldy wood, and something spicy yet unidentifiable. It made his nose wrinkle involuntarily.
Inside, the store was dimly lit by a single flickering bulb that barely illuminated the counter. The surface was cluttered with random junk—rusty antique watches, dismembered dolls, strange mechanical parts—like a miniature junkyard frozen in time.
Behind the counter, a small figure hunched over, counting wrinkled bills with obsessive precision. He wore a greasy leather jacket, his hair a tangled mess atop his head. His narrow eyes darted around suspiciously, reflecting the sharp cunning of someone who had survived too many dangerous deals. This was Rat.
He looked up at the sound of the door opening, squinting at Jack with mild curiosity. "Who are you? Looking for something?"
Jack stepped forward and lowered his voice. "Rat. Long time no see."
Rat studied him for a moment, clearly trying to place his face. Then recognition dawned, and his expression shifted to surprise. "Jack? Is that really you? Good God, what happened to you?"
Jack gave a dry chuckle. "I need your help."
Rat set aside the money and leaned forward, intrigued. "Jack from Wall Street coming to me for help? That's something I never thought I'd see. Alright then, what do you want?"
"I need medicine, food, and preferably a gun," Jack said bluntly.
Rat rubbed his hands together, his lips curling into a sly grin. "Food and medicine aren't a problem. But guns? Those are tricky—and expensive."
"Money isn't an issue. Just get it done," Jack replied. He knew Rat only acted when the reward was worth it.
Rat's eyes gleamed. He loved working with people who didn't waste time. "Fine. Fair enough. But I don't just work for money—I love a good story. Tell me, Jack… What the hell happened to you? How did you end up like this?"
Jack hesitated. He needed information as much as supplies. Rat had his ear to the ground, and maybe he could help uncover something about Richard. So, he told him everything—his fall from grace, his exile, and the recent events. He didn't hold back on details about Isabella; he knew full honesty was the only way to earn Rat's cooperation.
When Jack finished, Rat's expression turned serious. "Richard? That old fox? You've landed yourself in some deep trouble."
"I know," Jack said. "That's why I'm here."
Rat nodded slowly, then reached under the counter and pulled out a worn travel bag. Inside were some packaged crackers, canned food, gauze, and iodine. "Here. Take these for now. It'll keep you going for a while. As for the gun, I'll have to make a few calls. But I might have something else for you."
"What is it?" Jack asked, leaning in.
"I heard something interesting," Rat whispered. "Richard has been meeting regularly with a mysterious investor lately. Someone big. Word is, this guy has powerful connections. That's probably why Richard feels untouchable."
"A mysterious investor?" Jack frowned. This was valuable information. Until now, he had assumed Richard was just a petty criminal, but if someone with real influence was backing him, things were far worse than he imagined. "Do you know who he is?"
Rat shook his head. "Only rumors. I don't have a name, but I can dig deeper. Might take some time."
"That's fine," Jack said firmly. "Just tell me whatever you find. I'll pay whatever it takes."
"Deal," Rat grinned. "But watch your back. Richard doesn't forgive easily. He won't stop hunting you."
"I know," Jack replied. He picked up the travel bag and nodded. "Thanks, Rat."
"No problem. Hope next time we meet, you're back to being the Wall Street king again," Rat chuckled.
Jack left the shop. The wind was still bitter, but something inside him had warmed. He had found a new lead. If he could uncover the identity of this shadowy investor, he might finally unravel Richard's schemes—and clear his own name.
Back at the abandoned subway station, Isabella was still curled up on the cardboard mat, shivering. When she saw Jack return, her eyes lit up with relief, and she gripped his hand tightly.
"I'm back," Jack said gently, setting the bag down before carefully helping Isabella sit up against him. "We've got food, and some medicine for your wounds."
She nodded, gratitude shining in her eyes. She knew how much Jack was risking for her sake.
Jack pulled out the crackers and cans, feeding them to Isabella bit by bit. Watching her eat gave him a rare sense of comfort. He had to protect her, had to help her regain the strength and hope that had been stolen from her.
After eating, Jack carefully cleaned and dressed Isabella's wounds with the gauze and iodine. Seeing her wince in pain filled him with guilt.
"I'm sorry, Isabella. I'm so sorry you had to go through this," he murmured.
She shook her head and held his hand tighter. "No, Jack. I don't blame you. I know you're doing everything you can to protect me."
Jack squeezed her hand, silently vowing that he would uncover the truth, seek justice, and restore her life to what it once was.
He knew the road ahead would be even more dangerous—but he was ready. With his intelligence, courage, and unwavering determination, he would overcome every obstacle and reclaim his place at the top.
But first, he had to answer one question—who was this mysterious investor?
And he would find out. No matter what it took.