Chapter 8 - The Trap at Twilight
Two weeks later, the crisp autumn air heralded the changing of the seasons in New York. The city was settling into its evening rhythm when Julian decided to take a walk alone through Central Park—something he hadn't done since moving into the penthouse.
He wore a dark wool coat, his hands tucked deep into his pockets, enjoying the crisp breeze and the sound of dry leaves crunching beneath his boots. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like he was looking over his shoulder. He didn't feel like an outsider watching the world pass by through a shop window.
As he approached the Bethesda Fountain, a familiar figure stepped out from the shadows of the stone arcade.
It was Viktor—an old street acquaintance from the lower east side who had occasionally shared a shelter meal with Julian back when he had nothing. Viktor looked rough, his coat frayed at the cuffs, his eyes darting nervously around the park.
“Julian,” Viktor called out, keeping his distance.
Julian stopped, turning to face him. “Viktor? What are you doing here? I thought you left the city.”
Viktor took a step closer, his expression grim. “I had to warn you, kid. Arthur’s associates—the ones he hired to keep tabs on you all those years before he locked you away in that foster home upstate—they didn't all go down with him. One of his fixers is still out there. And he thinks you’re the reason Arthur’s empire collapsed.”
Julian’s muscles tensed, his street instincts instantly kicking back in. “Who?”
Before Viktor could answer, the sharp beam of a flashlight cut through the twilight, blinding Julian momentarily. Heavy footsteps echoed rapidly down the stone steps of the arcade.
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“There he is!” a harsh voice shouted.
Viktor turned and bolted into the trees, leaving Julian standing alone in the clearing as two burly figures in dark jackets emerged from the shadows, blocking his path toward the park exit.
