"Hey, neighbor! Could you do me a small favor?" Mirabe typed out the message with a mix of hope and urgency, her thumb hovering over the send button before finally pressing it.


    After a few moments with no reply, she didn''t stress about it. Rising from her desk, she grabbed a fresh pair of PJs from her dresser and headed to the bathroom.


    When she came back, towel-drying her hair, she checked her phone again.


    Still no response.


    Absentmindedly, Mirabe fiddled with her phone, not even noticing the water droplets from her hair sshing on the screen.


    This was strange. He usually replied quickly. What was different today?


    Could the opportunity be slipping away?


    With that uneasy thought, Mirabe set her phone down on the nightstand, picked up her hairdryer, and started drying her hair, her eyes constantly flicking back to her silent phone.


    Even as she drifted off to sleep, the phone remained still and quiet.


    On the other side of town, in Ashford''srgest underground market, a nondescript ck sedan waited at the curb, blending into the night.


    "...the Bishop family''s spots got hit first. Their thugs scattered," Curtis''s voice came through the earpiece, stern and unyielding.


    "Someone beat us to it? Who?" Wyatt''s voice was heavy with concern as he frowned.


    Dressed in tactical gear, Curtis surveyed the aftermath of the scuffle, the night cloaking him like a shroud. After a moment, he replied with chilling brevity, "No idea."


    "Return to base."


    At the crispmand, Curtis acknowledged with a curt "Roger," raised his hand, and signaled his men to withdraw.


    Curtis stepped out from the marketce, his figure elongated by the dim streetlights. He strode purposefully to the waiting sedan, opened the passenger door, and settled inside.


    The car hummed to life and left the old market behind.


    As the sedan faded into the distance, several figures emerged from an adjacent alley.


    "Are you sure you want to hand over the turf to the Shepherd family for free?" The speaker was Toby, who had recently met with James. His schrly charm was intact, but his eyes held a cunning gleam.


    The man leading the group wiped his hands with a handkerchief, cleaning off the bloodstains. "Why not? Consider it a housewarming gift."


    Toby fell silent, about to ask more when the leader turned slightly, his rugged profile catching the light. "But you, Toby, ready to let go of the Bishop family?"


    A smirk tugged at Toby''s lips. "It''s just a dirty ce."


    "Heh."


    Back in the car, Curtis removed his earpiece and wrist guards, then loosened his tie. "I''ve surveyed the scene. It''s chaotic but doesn''t look like an outsider''s ambush. More like an implosion from within."


    James lounged in the back seat, legs crossed, leaning back with an air of nonchnce. He nced out the window before saying, "Toby."


    "There''s someone backing Toby," Wyatt stated confidently. "I did some digging on him. He disappeared for a while a couple of years ago, might''ve been abroad."


    "It seems we have a bit of a mystery. What I can''t figure out is why he wouldn''t want to take over himself. Why hand it over? Or is it his backers that specifically want the Shepherd family to have it?" Curtis mused, eyes narrowed in thought.


    "Who knows." Wyatt grimaced, then noticed his phone vibrating in thepartment beside him.


    Wyatt nced at his phone, curiosity flickering across his features.