The city didn't sleep.
It held its breath.
Shark stood at the edge of the Eastside like he owned the night which, in truth, he did. Phones buzzed nonstop. Cars moved without headlights. Names were whispered, then erased. Every corner that had once felt safe was suddenly watched.
He tightened everything.
Routes were cut and redrawn. Lookouts doubled. Anyone who hesitated was sidelined. Anyone who asked too many questions disappeared from the inner circle. Shark didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
Fear moved faster than orders.
"Whoever fired that shot," he said calmly, "won't get a second chance."
No one questioned him.
By dawn, the city had been rearranged.
And Nyra?
Nyra was no longer part of it.
She sat on the edge of a bed, shoulder bandaged, jaw tight with frustration. She hated this part the being told, the being moved like something fragile.
"I'm fine," she said for the third time.
Shark stood near the door, arms crossed. "You're breathing. That's not the same thing."
She rolled her eyes. "I've been shot before."
"Not while everyone's watching."
That shut her up.
Shark's gaze softened not by much, but enough. "This isn't punishment," he said. "It's protection."
Nyra frowned. "Protection looks a lot like exile."
"Temporary," he corrected. "No loose ends."
She studied him then, really studied him. This wasn't the man who barked orders in warehouses or laughed over shared smoke. This was the brother. The shield. The one who took responsibility whether he wanted it or not.
"Where?" she asked quietly.
"Westside," Shark replied. "Elias."
Her head snapped up. "Elias? Absolutely not."
"He's clean. Untouched. His family's name alone scares half the city, and the other half wouldn't dare step near that gate."
Nyra scoffed. "You sending me to a mansion now?"
"Yes."
She shook her head. "He doesn't need this. He doesn't need me bringing"
Shark cut her off. "He won't even know why. And he won't ask. I've already spoken to him."
That made her pause. "You… talked?"
"Like brothers do," Shark said simply.
Silence stretched.
Nyra exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken. "You don't trust me out there right now."
"I trust you," he corrected. "I don't trust them."
He stepped closer, voice dropping. "You've been holding two worlds apart with bare hands. Let me carry one for a while."
She looked away. That one almost hurt more than the bullet.
Outside, a car waited.
Shark opened the door for her himself. No guards. No entourage. Just him.
As she climbed in, he added, "Heal. Rest. Think."
She smirked faintly. "You forgot 'behave.'"
He huffed. "I know better."
The car pulled away, Eastside shrinking behind her.
Shark watched until it disappeared.
Then he turned back to the city.
His city.
And anyone who thought touching Nyra was a message?
They were about to learn what answering one looked like.