The Deal

I couldn't trust the Watcher. There was something about him, a predatory gleam in his eyes, that set my teeth on edge. But he was my only lead. Taylor had vanished, and the police were treating it like a simple missing person case. They didn't understand. This wasn't some ordinary disappearance. This was something darker, something dangerous.

I needed to find Taylor, and I needed to do it fast.

My phone buzzed, a harsh sound that cut through the silence of my apartment. It was a text from the Watcher. "Meet me at the Black Cat," it read. "Midnight." The Black Cat. A dive bar on the edge of the city, known for its shady clientele and backroom deals. Not exactly my kind of place. But if it was my only shot at finding Taylor...

I grabbed my coat, a worn leather jacket I'd picked up at a thrift store, and headed out into the night. The city was a maze of neon and shadows, a million secrets whispered on the wind. I didn't know what I was walking into, but I knew one thing: I wouldn't let anything stop me from finding Taylor.

The Black Cat was everything I expected and less. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air, thick enough to choke on, and the patrons looked like they'd seen a few too many back-alley brawls. The Watcher was waiting for me at a booth in the back, a half-empty glass of whiskey in front of him. He looked like he belonged here, all sharp angles and dangerous charm.

"You're late," he said, his voice a low growl.

"Cut the crap," I replied, sliding into the booth. "What do you know about Taylor?"

The Watcher smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. "Patience, my dear. All in good time. First, we need to discuss a little… arrangement."

He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I can help you find Taylor. But in return, you'll do something for me."

"What kind of something?" I asked, my hand inching towards the knife tucked into my boot.

"A simple retrieval job," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "There's an artifact, a small box, currently in the possession of a… mutual acquaintance. I need you to get it for me."

"And if I refuse?"

The Watcher shrugged, a casual gesture that sent a shiver down my spine. "Then you're on your own. But trust me, you won't like the alternative."

He slid a photo across the table. It was a picture of Taylor, his eyes wide with fear, a gag pressed against his mouth. He was tied to a chair, the background a blur of shadows and concrete.

"They have him," the Watcher said, his voice low and dangerous. "And they won't be gentle."

My blood ran cold. I knew I didn't have a choice.

"Fine," I said, my voice tight with anger and fear. "Tell me what you want me to do."

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