The Crimson Silence

The Point of No Return

The text on Jake’s phone glared back at him like a silent threat, its words etched into his mind.

“See you soon, Jacob.”

It felt like a challenge, a promise of confrontation. But at this point, nothing could sway Jake from the path he had chosen. His determination burned fiercer than any fear. He just wanted to end this once and for all.

Jake took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. He bent down, checking the pockets of the two men sprawled on the floor. They were empty save for a few crumpled bills and half-smoked cigarettes, but it was the identical tattoos on their left upper arms that grabbed his attention. The unmistakable symbol of Artemis, inked in black, marking them as part of something much darker than Jake had realized.

Steeling himself, Jake reached for his phone and dialed a number he knew he shouldn’t. He waited as it rang, each second dragging, until a voice finally answered, sharp and guarded.

“Who is this?” asked Neil, his tone skeptical and edged with impatience.

“It’s Jacob,” Jake said, keeping his voice steady.

A scoff from Neil’s end, and then, “I don’t take calls from you, Jacob. Goodbye.”

Before Neil could end the call, Jake spoke quickly. “Alexandra is missing, and I need cleanup at my café—immediately.”

Silence followed his words, a long, tense pause. Finally, Neil’s voice came through again, now touched with a hint of mocking sarcasm.

“Be there in 30.”

The call cut out, leaving Jake in silence. He pocketed his phone, his eyes sweeping across his café. The place that once buzzed with laughter and warmth now felt cold, haunted by the specter of violence.

Half an hour passed before a black van pulled up outside the café. Jake peered through the broken window, watching as Neil climbed out, followed by a couple of men dressed in dark clothes, their movements quick and efficient. Neil entered first, his gaze sweeping the café, taking in the overturned tables, and the broken glass.

“Jacob,” he greeted coldly, his voice carrying a subtle edge as he scanned the once-lively space.

“Neil,” Jake replied, equally curt.

Neil glanced toward the kitchen. “How many?”

“Two. They’re over there.”

Without another word, Neil motioned to his men, who moved toward the kitchen to handle the grim task. Neil looked at Jake, gesturing for him to sit. They both settled into one of the booths, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them.

After a moment, Neil finally spoke, his accent thick with emotion. “She was happy in Paris, you know. Elle a quitté sa maison pour toi.” She left her home for you.

Jake swallowed, his throat tight. It was the first time Neil had ever opened up about anything personal, and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air. Jake felt a pang of guilt, of regret.

“I know,” he replied quietly, his voice low and heavy with remorse.

Neil’s jaw clenched. “And all for what?” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly regained his composure, his eyes hardening as he held Jake’s gaze.

They both fell silent, their thoughts drifting to Anna, to the unspoken grief that neither could fully voice. Neil cleared his throat, and Jake mirrored the action, trying to shake off the weight of the memories.

“I’ll find Alexandra,” Neil said finally, his tone pragmatic. “And I’ll handle your two ‘friends’ here as well.”

Jake gave a silent nod, still grappling with the reality of Neil’s involvement, still unsure what exactly Neil’s role in all of this was.