Adam stood outside a telephone booth and thought through the next step.

He had enough proof now: the body was one side of it, the photos, the mail, the deposits, and the rest of the filth inside the phone were the other, and the real question was how to use it.

Adam had two ways.

The first way was the easier one. He could use the copied phone he had taken earlier from an ordinary passerby and make the call from that line. He had already used that kind of trick before. It worked, and it would work again.

But this time he did not want to do it.

If Rovan panicked the wrong way, the damage would not come to Adam first. It would fall on the innocent man whose phone line had been used. Adam had already accepted that he needed to become ruthless, but there was still a line he did not want to cross without a reason.

’Not this way,’ Adam thought.

That was why he had come to the booth.

Before stepping inside, Adam took out Rovan’s copied phone one last time and worked fast, sending two mails and then a third to addresses already tied to Rovan’s own life while attaching the photos first, then the payment records, and then the rest of the dirt that would make denial harder.

When that was done, Adam did not keep the device.

He knew that phone was dangerous even in his pocket. It could be tracked, tied to towers, and turned into a trail if he held it too long. So he broke it at once, snapped what he could, folded the damaged pieces into his pocket for later disposal, and moved on.

Then he stepped into the booth, took a breath, and dialed Rovan’s number.

On the other side of the city, Rovan Hale was sitting in his car.

He was alone for the moment, one arm resting on the door while his mind circled around money. A little more, that was all he needed. If enough cash stacked up, he could either walk away from the force or buy his way upward into a better seat. Men above him did it all the time. He had already seen enough to know that a badge alone meant nothing.

Then his phone rang from an unknown number.

Rovan glanced at the screen and picked it up anyway. Unknown calls often meant work, and work often meant money.

"Who is this?" he said.

Adam’s voice came back calm.

"I have to say, I haven’t seen many men like you. You kill someone, bury him, and still walk around in public this comfortably. I should learn from you."

Rovan’s fingers tightened around the phone.

For a second, he did not know which job the voice meant.

That alone told him enough about himself.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

Adam did not let him settle.

"You really shouldn’t have done that to the environmental activist. A man was trying to protect the land and the forest, and you shot him for a little money."

Everything inside Rovan seemed to stop.

He had imagined being exposed before, as every dirty man did, but he had never imagined it like this, through a call on an ordinary day while he was still sitting in his own car.

His mind lurched in three directions at once: go to the forest, find the leak, and check who was watching.

His eyes moved at once as he checked the windshield, then the side, then the mirror, where people nearby were talking, walking, eating from a stall, or arguing, but no one obvious was staring at him, which only made it worse.

Adam spoke again before the silence could help him.

"At first I thought that was all," he said. "Then I checked your phone and found the rest. Jalen Mor and Sarthik. You handled them too, didn’t you? One near the canal road and one out by the quarry. And the environmental activist? You buried him in Blackroot Forest. When the body came up, the bullet in the chest said enough by itself."

Rovan’s mouth went dry.

His head was no longer working cleanly. One part of him wanted to drive straight to the forest and check the site. Another part knew that would be stupid if someone was already watching him. A third part was still stuck on one detail: his phone.

"What?" he said. "How?"

Then he grabbed the device and checked it with shaking hands.

It was there, and everything looked normal: the photos were still there, the mail was still there, and nothing seemed touched, which only made the fear worse.

Adam heard the movement and smiled faintly.

"You should check your mail too," he said. "I sent a few things."

Rovan opened it immediately.

His hands were shaking now as the first mail made his stomach drop and the second tightened his grip, and by the third the blood had already drained from his face. The photos, the records, and the chain were all there.

He pressed the phone harder against his ear.

"Who are you?" he said. "What do you want from me?"

Adam leaned back against the booth wall and let the silence breathe for a second.

"I was thinking about taking all this to the family," he said. "That would be interesting. Or maybe I should go to the media. No... your superiors would enjoy it more."

Rovan cut in before he could continue.

"No."

His voice came out rough, then it steadied. He was frightened and shaken, but he was still a man who had spent years learning how deals worked.

"Listen to me," he said. "If you called me, then you don’t plan to do that right now. You want something. So say it clearly. Money? Someone removed? Some other job? Tell me your price and I’ll give it to you. Just give me everything you have and this ends here."

Adam’s smile deepened.

The fear had done its work, and the man had moved exactly where Adam wanted him to go.

"Very good," Adam said softly. "Now I understand why people like using you."

Then Adam fell silent for a moment, and his eyes narrowed.

’You’re on the line now,’ Adam thought. ’Let’s see what I can make you do.’