Chapter 1

One early morning.

Jason sat at the counter, gazing into the amber liquid in his glass, looking like a man with nowhere to be. 

The bar was nearly empty, with just him, the bartender wiping down glasses, and the faint sound of a TV playing last night’s news. 

He took a slow sip, enjoying the cold taste in his mouth. 

Then, a voice behind him disturbed the quiet.

"You shouldn’t be here."

Jason didn't turn around, instead he glanced at the reflection in the bar mirror. 

A man in a black coat approached him,  snapping a lighter open and shut, the flame briefly lighting up a cold face that looked like it had seen its fair share of trouble and dealt with it.

The man was Cole Vargas, an enforcer to one of the underworld's powerful men. 

Raising his glass in a mock toast, Jason didn’t turn immediately. He just smirked. "Cole Vargas. Didn’t expect to see you out this early. Couldn't sleep?"

Cole didn’t smile, finding the joke unfunny. His voice stayed hostile. "What the hell are you doing in this city, Lucan?”

Jason took another sip before answering. "It's Jason. And am I supposed to announce my arrival? Maybe send out invitations?"

Cole continued to flick his lighter open and shut for no particular reason, the small flame briefly lighting his face. "You know damn well you’re not welcome here. Not after what your old master did."

"That has nothing to do with me, besides, that was what? Twenty years ago? And here I thought you people moved on quickly." Jason taunted, his grin growing. 

He leaned back slightly, “Let it go, man. Holding grudges like that’ll give you even more wrinkles.” He added 

Cole scoffed. "Duvall doesn’t forget. He wants you gone. Now. Before this becomes a problem."

Jason finally turned to look at him, amusement hiding behind a calculating gaze, "A problem for who?"

“Lucan, if you keep running your mouth, you’re going to end up in a ditch somewhere.” Cole seemed to not be having none of it anymore. He was becoming even more hostile.

His voice dropped, tone final,  “Come with me, Duval wants you to deliver a message to your master.”

Jason grinned, tipping back his whiskey. “I think I'll have to decline that offer.” 

Outside, the city hummed, cars speeding past, glowing billboards flashing, and the distant wail of sirens ringing out through the early morning.

Jason, seemingly oblivious, kept talking. "So, you’re the one they call the ‘Gravekeeper.’"

Cole opened his lighter again, the small flame reflecting in his cold eyes. "And you know why they call me that?"

Jason smirked. “Because you clean up messes?”

Cole didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted toward the entrance. The door swung open. Three men stepped inside, built like moving walls, their expressions were stone-cold as they locked onto Jason. 

Cole finally said. “No. Because I decide who gets buried.

Jason exhaled, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Wow. And here I was, looking forward to a one- on one with the great Cole Vargas." He gestured toward the men. "But instead, you brought backup? You really know how to kill a guy’s excitement."

Cole sighed, unbothered. "You're not worth my time." With that, he turned on his heel and strode past his men, then he stopped. Without turning around, he said. “You can walk, or they'll carry you, doesn't matter to me.” 

Jason watched as Cole disappeared, and for the first time he frowned and did not even attempt to make a remark. He did not smirk or joke. Just silence. 

Then he looked at the three men and sighed, setting his glass down. "Listen, I appreciate the invite, really. But tell your boss that I usually prefer dinner and a movie before being dragged off by mysterious men in suits. Just feels more personal, you know?”

The three men, however, did not take his comments lightly. Clearly, he didn't see them as significant enough to be a threat, and that got on their nerves.Their leader's scowl deepened and he said,  "Fine. Then we’ll have to bring you to him unconscious.”

Before Jason had time to say anything, they lunged at him.

The first guy swung a punch. Effortlessly, Jason ducked, caught his wrist, and slammed his face into the counter. Bottles rattled. Glass shattered.

The second man reached for a weapon, but Jason grabbed a beer bottle and cracked it over his head. He crumpled onto a table, sending drinks flying.

The last guy snarled and came at him fast. Jason dodged, grabbed a chair, and smashed it across his back. The guy staggered, but before he could recover, Jason kicked him square in the chest, sending him crashing into a nearby booth.

The bartender just watched him in silence.