Chapter 4 The weight of names

Chapter 4 – The Weight of Names

Zion couldn't look away.

She said it like it meant something heavier than it sounded. Like the name alone was dangerous to utter in public air.

Lyra's lips barely moved when she whispered:

"The mayor..."

Zion leaned in closer. "What about him?"

Lyra's fingers curled around her coffee cup like it was the only thing anchoring her to the moment. She scanned the café-the low hum of jazz, the barista wiping the counter, a man reading a newspaper in the corner. Still, she whispered.

"He knew. About Antwon. About me. About what we found."

Zion tensed. "What did you find?"

Lyra met his gaze, her eyes suddenly glassy with unshed truth. "Evidence. Files Antwon had hidden from everyone, even his father. Things tied to the district slush funds, fake identities, bodies hidden beneath those 'new housing developments.' He wanted to expose it. And I... I helped him gather it."

Zion blinked. "You're saying the mayor killed his own son?"

"No," she said. "But he made it easy. He gave him to them. He thought they'd scare him. Send a message. But they..." Her voice broke. "They didn't stop."

The air between them turned ice-cold. Zion sat back, hands clenched beneath the table.

He'd seen corruption. Tasted it. But this? This was rot from the root.

Lyra pulled something from her coat pocket-a flash drive, old and scratched. "He was going to give this to you."

Zion hesitated. Took it slowly.

"What's on it?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't watch it. But whatever's there... it's why he's dead."

Zion slipped it into his coat. "Why come to me now?"

"Because you're not one of them," she said. "And because you've already seen the signs. The moon. The tear. The silence. It's all connected."

Zion wanted to ask more, press further-but then he noticed her eyes.

They weren't just watching him.

They were saying goodbye.

"Wait," he said, standing up. "Where are you going?"

Lyra stood too, brushing her coat down. "Somewhere I can't be followed. Not yet."

"But-"

She touched his hand. "Zion... whatever you find on that drive, don't take it to the police. Not until you're sure who's still clean."

And then she was gone.

Out the door. Into the fog. Swallowed by the silence she claimed to live in.

Zion sat down slowly.

He looked at the flash drive. His reflection staring back at him in its surface.

Everything was changing.

And now, the mayor's name wasn't just a title.

It was a threat.

---

The next morning, Zion stood in front of his old precinct.

District 7. The place where truth went to die under paperwork and public smiles.

He wasn't dressed in uniform. Just a plain coat and a heavier heart. The flash drive was in his pocket, and it felt like a loaded weapon.

He walked past the front desk, ignored the glances, and took the stairs two at a time. His old boss-Captain Raleigh-was in. Zion could feel it. The tension in the air, the kind that came before a thunderclap.

He knocked once, then opened the door.

Raleigh looked up from behind his desk. "Zion. That's a surprise."

"I found something," Zion said, walking in. "Something about Antwon Cade."

Raleigh leaned back. "The mayor's son? That case is above our heads now. Federal."

"Not what I have," Zion replied. He took out the flash drive and placed it on the desk.

Raleigh didn't touch it. "What's on it?"

Zion studied him. "That's what I'm here to find out. But I need someone I can trust."

A long pause. The two men stared at each other-years of history unspoken between them.

Raleigh finally reached forward and plugged the flash drive into his laptop. The screen flickered.

Encrypted files loaded. Video thumbnails. Documents. Voice memos. Names.

Raleigh opened the first one. A recording. Antwon's voice, panicked, low:

> "If you're hearing this, something went wrong. The mayor's campaign fund-he's been laundering money for years. I have proof. I have the names. I didn't know who to trust."

The second file played a video-Antwon secretly filming a transaction between city officials and a masked man exchanging unmarked boxes. The faces were clear. One of them was a current police chief.

Raleigh froze.

Zion said nothing. Just watched the man's face drain of color.

Raleigh slowly closed the laptop. "Jesus Christ."

"There's more," Zion said. "Lyra said it ties to everything-the murders, the housing projects, the city council."

Raleigh rubbed his temples. "If even half of this is true, we're sitting on a bomb."

Zion leaned forward. "I need to know-are you with me on this? Or do I walk out of here alone?"

Raleigh didn't answer right away. Then he locked the office door and turned off the blinds.

"I didn't make it this far to retire on guilt," he said. "You've got my trust. But from this point on, we do this off the books."

Zion nodded. The war had started.

And this time, silence wouldn't be enough to survive.