CHAPTER 36: CHAPTER 36

The metallic click of the SUV’s door unlocking echoed like a gunshot in the sudden, crushing silence of Room 7. Ace’s finger remained frozen, holding the cheap curtain open the width of a fingernail. His heart was pounding wildly against his ribs, so loudly he worried the people outside might hear it. Beside him, Evelyn stood motionless against the wall, blending into the shadows like a statue only the quick rise and fall of her chest showed how scared she was. On the floor near the bed, Silva had stopped whimpering. Instead, the only sound was his ragged, uneven breathing, as if he was trying desperately not to vomit.

The bright headlights of the SUV shone harshly, making it hard to see. Then, a tall, broad shouldered figure stepped fully onto the road. Even in the dark, Ace knew who it was—Marcus, Ramos’s enforcer. This was the man who had attacked Finley’s scrapyard. Behind him, two more large men got out of the SUV and followed him like guard dogs ready to strike.

Marcus didn’t even glance towards Room 7. Instead, he strode purposefully across the flooded courtyard, his boots crunching on loose gravel as he made his way straight to Apartment 2A, It was Evelyn’s apartment. He stopped right before her door, the headlights throwing his long shadow across the peeling paint like a monstrous claw.

Marcus pounded his fist against the door with a force that shook the quiet night each strike echoing like a battering ram in the quiet night. BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Evelyn Santos! Open up!" His voice was a deep, threatening growl, cutting through the silence. "Ramos knows you were digging around in his business!"

Inside Room 7, Evelyn flinched as if she’d been hit. Ace noticed her knuckles turning white as she clenched the edge of her hoodie.

BAM! Another thunderous blow. "That fancy coffee shop ain’t paying you to snoop on real business!" Marcus yelled, his voice thick with contempt. "Open the damn door!"

"Ace noticed Evelyn stiffen beside him. She moved slightly closer, her whisper so quiet he could barely hear it over Silva’s choked breathing. "My laptop" she said, her voice thick with fear. "It’s on the table. All my research is there...Ramos’s shell companies, the loan patterns, the money trails... everything. If they find it..."

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. The lockbox was dangerous like a bomb but Evelyn’s research was what could set it off. Ramos would realize just how much she had uncovered... and how much Ace might know.

CRACK!

The sound of splintering wood filled the air. One of Marcus’s men was kicking at the doorframe near the lock.

"It won’t hold much longer, boss!" the thug shouted, straining against the weakening door.

Ace closed his eyes, forcing down panic. He needed to think—to use what he had. The System had given him a new skill: Info-Finder, which gathered public data. His mind turned to the motel’s old security camera pointed at the parking lot entrance. Could he access it? Could he see what it recorded?

He focused inward, pushing his Neural-Interface towards the Nite Owl Motel security feed. He visualized the rusted camera housing mounted near the office roof. A chaotic stream of fragmented data flickered at the edge of his awareness – network protocols, outdated firmware, weak encryption. It was like trying to pick a rusty lock with numb fingers. He pushed harder, sending a mental command: ACCESS. VIEW.

SYSTEM: CONNECTING TO A PUBLIC SECURITY CAMERA... NITE OWL SECURITY CAM 1 (LOBBY VIEW)

WARNING: WEAK ENCRYPTION DETECTED. BYPASSING...

A grainy, monochrome image flashed in Ace’s mind, overlapping his view through the gap in the curtains. The angle was terrible, mostly showing the front of the office and part of the SUV’s hood. But he could see Marcus broad back and one of the thugs stepping away, gripping a small crowbar he’d pulled from his jacket. They were only seconds away from breaking in. "Phone!" Ace whispered urgently, keeping his eyes locked on the mental image. "Evelyn, give me your landline number now!"

Evelyn didn’t hesitate, she whispered the number instantly. Ace quickly pulled out his burner phone from his pocket and tapped over the keys as he dialed. Then he held his breath, waiting.

From Inside Apartment 2A, faint but distinct through the thin walls of the motel and amplified by the tense silence in Room 7, a loud, shrill RIIIIIIING erupted.

The thug with the crowbar froze mid-swing. He turned to Marcus, his face shadowed but his confusion obvious. "Boss?" he said. "Someone’s calling her... Maybe she ain’t home after all?"

Marcus turned his head slowly, his sharp features outlined by the glow of the SUV’s headlights. Ace could almost feel the man’s suspicion radiating through the walls. Marcus stared at Evelyn’s dark, silent door, then at the phone still ringing inside.

"Or she’s hiding," Marcus growled, his voice dripping with menace. His eyes swept over the shadowy motel courtyard, pausing on Room 7 before moving away. Ace held his breath, pressing himself tighter against the wall, silently pleading, Don’t look here. Don’t look here.

But then Marcus’s gaze stopped and fixed on the door of Room 7. A chill ran through his spine.

"Try that one," Marcus ordered, nodding toward the room. His voice was a deep, warning growl. "It smells like trouble."

The two thugs immediately left Evelyn’s door and turned in unison, their heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel path as they marched straight toward Room 7. Marcus trailed a few steps behind them.

From the floor, Silva let out a strangled sound. "Oh god, oh god, oh god..." he moaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Silva! Hide the box now!" Ace whispered urgently, tearing his eyes away from the crack in the curtain. "HIDE IT IN THE SHOWER STALL! NOW, SILVA!"

Silva crawled frantically toward the bed on his hands and knees while Ace rushed to help him. They grabbed the heavy metal lockbox they had just hidden under the mattress, its scraping against the floorboards sounding unbearably loud in the tense silence. Working together they dragged and pushed the box across the small room towards the dirty bathroom. Ace yanked back the mildewed plastic shower curtain just as Silva heaved the box inside with a dull thud. The second Ace snapped the curtain shut, a heavy fist slammed against their door.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The pounding shook the flimsy door, the vibrations crawling deep into Ace’s bones. He locked eyes with Evelyn, both frozen in fear. Nearby, Silva huddled in a trembling ball by the toilet.

"OPEN THE DOOR! RAMOS SENDS HIS REGARDS!" a rough voice shouted from outside. It wasn’t a request; it was a threat.

Ace took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing his expression into something resembling calm. He couldn’t look panicked. He couldn’t look like he had the world’s most dangerous secret stashed in his shower. He gestured sharply for Evelyn to stay back, pressed against the wall beside the door, hidden from the immediate line of sight. Silva was already hidden.

Ace unlocked the door with a slightly trembling hand. He opened it just enough to block the view inside with his body. The bright high beams from the SUV made him squint.

Marcus stood with his two thugs at his side. He was looking even more intimidating up close. A jagged scar cut down his cheek, vanishing into his short beard. His cold, calculating eyes locked onto Ace’s face before darting past him, searching the shadowy room behind. The thugs beside him looked ready to strike at any second.

Ace kept his voice steady, adding just a touch of weary irritation. "Can I help you with Something?" He asked. "It’s the middle of the night."

Marcus didn’t bother with pleasantries. His gaze swept over Ace’s worn clothes, lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Are you the kid Deke was messing with? The one who owes some money to deke?"

Ace shrugged, feigning tiredness. "Deke messed with a lot of people."

"Cut the crap," Marcus snapped, his voice low and threatening as he stepped closer. "Ramos likes people who take action. I heard you were the one who clipped Deke’s wings for him. A cold smile touched his lips, devoid of humor. "Saves us the trouble. Very efficient."

Ace remained silent, thinking fast. Info-Finder, do you have anything? But all it showed was the same news update about Deke’s body.

Marcus stared hard at Ace. "So," he said, "we know you took that little insurance package Deke threw over the fence at Finley’s. Give it to me. Nice and easy. You walk away free. But if you refuse..." He let the threat hang in the air, his gaze flickering meaningfully past Ace into the room, then towards the direction of Apartment 2A. "...let’s just say your barista friend won’t be serving coffee anymore. Ramos doesn’t like nosy people."

Behind the door, Evelyn gasped softly. Ace felt a surge of anger but kept his expression blank.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Ace said, meeting Marcus’s stare. He shrugged, making his voice sound careless.

Marcus’s face turned grim. He moved even closer, his breath smelling of cheap cigars. "Don’t play stupid, kid. It ain’t cute. We know you were there. We know you took it." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Give me the box."

Ace held his ground. Panic was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He needed leverage, and fast. His mind raced through public records, anything linked to Ramos, something damaging enough to keep hidden. The Info Finder screen flickered, displaying dock manifests, public permits... and then, Harbor Patrol fee waivers—approved for a shell company owned by Ramos.

Ace steadied his voice, forcing confidence he didn’t fully feel. "Even if I had seen that box, it wouldn’t be here. Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to keep it here? Something that sensitive? It’s already gone—encrypted copies sent everywhere." He leaned forward, matching Marcus’s aggression. "If you hurt me, Evelyn or anyone here... He paused, letting the threat sink in. "...and every corrupt judge, cop, and councilman in Deke’s black book gets exposed. Including," he added, locking eyes with Marcus, "Ramos’s little deal with Harbor Patrol. Those waived dock fees would make for some interesting headlines."

For just a microsecond, Marcus’s cold eyes tightened. His scarred cheek twitched slightly. Ace’s Info Finder hadn’t given him much, but it had given him that name, that connection. And Marcus’s reaction confirmed it meant something. The enforcer clearly hadn’t expected Ace to know anything about Ramos’s operations.

Marcus didn’t move for a long moment. The silence stretched, heavy with tension. Even the two thugs shifted uneasily. Finally, Marcus let out a slow, humorless chuckle that sounded like gravel crunching underfoot.

"Clever kid," he said in a deep, unimpressed voice. He stepped back slightly, putting some distance between them and easing the tense atmosphere. "Alright. Fine. Ramos likes efficiency and potential." He pulled a cheap, unmarked business card from his pocket and flicked it towards Ace. It fluttered to the ground at his feet.

"Be at Dockside Warehouse 7B tomorrow at sharp 10 AM." Marcus’s voice was flat and dangerous. "Bring the box and come alone." He emphasized the last word, his gaze sweeping past Ace into the room again, lingering where Evelyn was hidden. "No cops, and absolutely not that coffee girl."

He turned abruptly, his long coat swirling. "Be there, kid. Or start practicing your doggy paddle." Without another word, Marcus strode back towards the idling SUV. His thugs followed, casting one last menacing look at Ace before getting inside."

The passenger door slammed shut and the SUV’s engine roared as it reversed, its tires kicking up gravel. The bright headlights turned away, leaving the courtyard almost dark again. Then, the vehicle sped out of the motel parking lot, its red taillights vanishing around the corner.

Ace stood frozen in the doorway, the cool night air washing over him. The cheap card lay at his feet. Behind him, he heard Silva retching violently in the bathroom. Evelyn let out a shaky breath, stepping out from behind the door, her face pale but her eyes blazing with furious intelligence.

He slowly closed the door and locked it, his hands finally starting to tremble. He leaned his forehead against the cool wood. He glanced at the cheap digital clock on the nightstand. Its glowing red numbers read 2:17 AM.

They had less than eight hours.

And after that, they would have to face Victor Ramos.