At the beginning of the evening, there was a meeting planned that swept away all thoughts of Phantom.

At his brother's insistence, he had reached out to Rogue, the gang leader of the Thorns. Jacob didn't want to make a deal with the police until his friend had been informed, and they couldn't contact each other directly. Not while Jacob had to remain behind bars because Ezra refused to pay his bail.

He had dreaded this meeting so much that he'd been tempted to pay it after all—but in the end, here he was, in a restaurant-bar far above his means, where the price of a single beer equaled an entire lunch at the food stalls he usually frequented.

The restaurant was otherwise empty, save for two servers and some kitchen staff. Outside, people sat on the terrace—gang members, no doubt, ready to stop anyone from coming in. Ezra felt hot under the collar. He was rarely confronted with such raw power, and he still found it hard to believe this used to be his brother's world, though he himself didn't have it in him to lead a gang like his friend did.

"Ezra." Rogue—real name Ray, which sounded far less intimidating—offered him a calculating smile. "It's been a while. I thought you liked keeping your hands clean?"

Those hands were starting to feel clammy now. His mouth had gone dry. Sitting across from a top criminal like this felt like a spectacularly bad decision, even if he had spent countless afternoons at their house as a kid.

"I do," he replied. Thankfully, he didn't sound like a scared little bird. "And I've tried to make sure my brother kept his hands clean too."

Rogue nodded slowly. Tattooed thorny vines peeked out from under the collar of his shirt, crawling up his neck and into his dark, neatly combed hair. "And yet, something went wrong again, from what I hear."

Ezra clenched his jaw. "He was set up. By you or your... subordinates."

"Not by me, in any case."

"Then by someone who wanted to challenge your authority."

Rogue snorted with contempt. His deceptively friendly-looking blue eyes shimmered with danger. "I find that hard to believe."

Ezra took a sip of the beer that had been served at the start of the conversation. "Why?" You haven't been on top for that long. He didn't say it aloud—too provocative—but let the question hang, sounding simply curious.

"That's not how things work."

Ezra raised a doubtful eyebrow but said nothing.

Rogue leaned forward, studying him. "Why do you think otherwise?"

"My brother's never lied about what he's done. I don't see why he'd lie about two bags of coke now."

Rogue let the words settle in the space between them. He lit a cigarette and savored it for a moment before answering. "What are you trying to tell me, Ezra?"

"That my brother's facing life in prison."

Something flickered across Rogue's face, as if he genuinely regretted hearing that.

"He wants to stay loyal to the gang, even after stepping out. But he suspects not everyone agreed he should be allowed to walk away, and this was their revenge. Something small for them—with huge consequences for him." Ezra took another sip. He hadn't expected this, but now that the conversation was flowing, he actually felt fairly relaxed, despite being deep in enemy territory. "So yes, he's disappointed in you. That you let this happen."

Rogue's eyes narrowed. "That's a serious accusation."

"It was a serious action."

"Do you have any proof?"

Ezra shrugged. "A humble plumber like me? No. I only have my reasoning. But it makes sense. And if anyone could dig up evidence, it's you. I'm sure you've got someone in forensics who could check those drugs for prints. Hell, you could probably even find out whether they came from your own stash."

The man brought the cigarette back to his lips, leaned back, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
"I could do that. But it doesn't look good if I start investigating my own men."

Ezra frowned. "So you just let them mess around?"

Rogue's jaw tightened—a sign Ezra was nearing the limit. And he hadn't even told him what Jacob planned to do. 

"In any case—Jacob feels betrayed. And he's not about to face life with his head held high."

Rogue stubbed out his cigarette and rested his elbows on the table. "What's he planning?"

"To disappear. In exchange for giving them a little information."

The gang leader's brow furrowed darkly. "What kind of information?"

"Old stuff. The location of a few bodies from years ago. Things the feds want, but that don't really matter to you anymore." Ezra took another sip. His voice was steady, but his throat still felt parched. "That's why I'm here. Jacob doesn't want to do this behind your back. But he does think you owe him. He's losing everything, just because you didn't keep your people in line."

Rogue grimaced. Fortunately, he was the kind of man who didn't let his emotions lead. "Why doesn't he let the cops figure out where the drugs came from? If they find proof he was framed, they'll let him go, right?"

"I doubt they'll make the effort," Ezra replied. "They're not exactly fond of him. And he thinks that'd cause you more damage. What if they catch the ones responsible? Who knows what those guys will spill to the cops? They're clearly not trustworthy."

Rogue glanced outside. "Fine. I'll look into it. If he's right, he'll have permission to share a few old locations." He pushed his chair back. 

Before he could stand, Ezra added, "Obviously, the police know nothing about this conversation. You're completely left out of it, which means Jacob will get a new identity, with protection."

The gang leader's face darkened. When Jacob had still been part of the Thorns, the two had been inseparable. During Rogue's rise to power, Jacob had been his cornerstone. This move meant the end of their friendship. Keeping in touch would be too risky—for both of them, at least as long as Rogue stayed in charge.

"That sounds wise." He stood and straightened his pants and jacket. "You'll hear from me soon."
With a tilt of his head, he motioned a broad-shouldered man forward. "Sixx will see you out."

Ezra nodded and extended a hand. Rogue looked slightly surprised, then shook it. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Ezra. You're a smart guy. Shame you're not interested in being an informant. I'd pay you well."

Ezra's mouth twitched into a small smile. "I'd rather keep a safe distance from the fire."

A short, appreciative chuckle followed.

With a nod from Rogue, Ezra allowed himself to be escorted out of the building. Once outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air.

That had gone better than he'd dared hope.

He trusted the outcome.

Just a little longer, and his brother would truly be cut loose from this place. He could start fresh—and Ezra wouldn't have to watch over his shoulder anymore.

He could finally leave this whole gang business behind.