Page 9 of Bride of Vengeance

The first five kills… all clean, respectful, almost ritualistic in their precision. Victims found in positions of dignity, personal effects undisturbed, kills that felt like they were regretted, as if they were the last unfortunate option to resort to.

The next seven… sloppier. More violent. Bodies positioned for maximum psychological impact rather than professional efficiency.

The last five… pure brutality disguised as Ghost's methodology. Someone getting bolder, more careless, more willing to deviate from the original template.

Three different killers. All using the same name.

The realization hits me like a physical blow. I haven't been hunting one phantom - I've been hunting a franchise. Someone took Ghost's reputation and turned it into a weapon, recruiting imitators who got progressively worse at the job.

But why? And who's been orchestrating it?

My secure phone buzzes against the granite counter. Rodriguez's name flashes on the screen, and for a moment I consider not answering. The last thing I need right now is my partner's concern hovering and those looks he's been giving me lately that say way too much.

But duty wins over personal comfort, the way it always does.

"Castillo."

"Jesus Christ, Mariana, where the hell are you? I've been trying to reach you for three hours."

"I'm fine, Rodriguez. Just dealing with some smoke inhalation from the warehouse." I keep my voice steady, professional. No mention of silver-haired phantoms who save lives and disappear into shadows.

"We need to talk." His voice drops, takes on that careful tone he uses when he's about to deliver bad news. "But not over the phone. Can you meet me?"

Shit.

"What happened?"

"Orlov happened. The witness you were protecting? Someone put a bullet in his head last night while he was supposed to be in federal custody. While you were trapped in that warehouse fire."

The coffee mug slips from my fingers, shattering against the kitchen floor in an explosion of ceramic and cold caffeine. Coffee spreads across the hardwood like spilled blood, and I stare at it stupidly while my brain tries to process what he just said.

"Last night? While I was..."While I was being saved by the man everyone thinks killed him.

"That's impossible. Orlov was in a secure location. Only five people had access to his whereabouts."

"Yeah, well, someone leaked it. And guess whose name is at the top of the suspect list?"

Mine.

The word hangs between us unspoken, but I feel its weight settling in my stomach like a stone. This isn't just about a dead witness. This is about destroying my career, my credibility, everything I've worked for.

This is exactly what Ghost warned me about.

"Someone who wants both of us to take the blame."

"Rodriguez," I say carefully, "who's running the investigation into the leak?"

"Deputy Director Harrison. He wants to see you first thing tomorrow morning. Formal interview, full record, the works."

Harrison. The man who assigned me to the Ghost case in the first place. The man who has access to all my reports, all my theories, my entire investigation timeline.

"Who benefits if the FBI believes Ghost killed a federal witness? Who gains from your career being destroyed alongside my reputation?"

"Mariana? You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Just... processing."

"Look, I know this is bad, but I've got your back. Whatever happened, whatever they think you did, we'll figure it out together."