Commission The tall, iron gates started to open before I came to a full stop. There were no security guards, only a series of high-definition cameras tucked into stone pillars. I eased through and followed the driveway as it curved into the trees. The road climbed, then straightened, and a house finally came into view. Jonathan stood at the end of the drive with his hands in his jacket pockets, waiting. He gave a small no...

The bass thudded through my ribs as I wiped down another table, but my mind wasn't on the sticky rings of beer or the Crows huddled in their corner booth. October's chill had crept into Berlin, but inside my head, it was still morning. I was thinking about pale green eyes. I was thinking about the way Élodie's fingers had traced patterns on my thighs yesterday, mapping constellations on skin that didn't technically belong...

The Reihenhaus attic felt smaller when Wolf was thinking. Cigarette smoke curled between exposed ceiling beams, mixing with the scent of old wood and something chemical I couldn't place. He sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, studying me with the kind of focus that meant business. "There's new flow on the streets," he said, German accent thickening the way it did when he was being precise. "Something clean, ja. Too cle...

The Ringbahn hummed through its circuit, wheels clicking against tracks in a hypnotic, hollow rhythm. I'd been riding for hours. Looping the city and letting the network carry me through districts that blurred past the windows like scenes from a movie I wasn't watching. My AirPods sat snug in my ears, but I didn’t play anything. The train provided its own soundtrack. The conversations in multiple languages, the rustle of...

I walked into the house to find Mary exactly where I requested. She was sitting on the couch. She wore a silk robe and had a blindfold covering her eyes. The air in the room felt heavy. I guided my companion through the maze of furniture until she stood directly in front of my wife. “Happy birthday, babe.” Mary scrunched her face slightly. It was clear she could smell another woman’s perfume. “What’s happening right now?”...

A week had passed since discovering the phone. Seven days of checking locks, testing windows, and counting every shadow that didn't belong. I'd approached Wolf carefully. Told him about feeling watched, about strange coincidences. Nothing specific enough to sound paranoid, but enough to make him take notice. His response was immediate and thorough. The security cameras around the Reihenhaus showed nothing. The hallway lea...

The April evening painted Prenzlauer Berg in shades of amber and rose. I stood outside Martin's building, watching the light catch on old facades and turn weathered brick into something almost beautiful. Six months since I'd left this neighborhood. Six months since I'd written that letter and disappeared into this other world. The window on the third floor was open. Martin's ridiculous blue curtains billowed out like flag...

I pushed myself upright; the robe shifting against skin that still registered every texture with uncomfortable clarity. "How long have I been here?" My voice came out rough, dry. "Three days," Seline replied, uncrossing her legs with practised precision. "Give or take. Difficult to tell down here, ja?" Three days. The number hung in the air between us, too clean and clinical for the fog that clouded my memory. Flashes sur...

She had hardened into silence. Stone was not meant to sense the turning of seasons, and yet she did. She knew the warmth of summer by the way no one lingered in the air made heavy by heat. She knew the cold quiet of winter by how sound thinned, and candles burned more slowly. A monolith surrounded by flickering light, she stood at the alter as she always had—hands open, eyes slightly lowered to witness devotion. They came...

The black Mercedes moved through empty streets with the quiet hum of expensive engineering, its tinted windows reflecting neon signs and streetlights that painted brief, colorful streaks across the glass. I pressed my back against the leather seat, trying to disappear into its warmth while my skin burned with exposure. Naked. Still completely naked in the back of a stranger's car, with only the darkness and her studied in...

Three weeks since that night in the basement, and I could still feel the buzz of that room beneath my skin. Three weeks of ordinary shifts at The Foundry, wiping tables, dodging wandering hands, and watching the familiar rhythms of Klaus's operation unfold above ground. The Crows still held their corner booth. The regulars still nursed their beers. The music still pounded industrial heartbeats through concrete and steel....

Klaus’s text had arrived three days ago, blunt and unyielding: Black. Short. Tight. Clean. No bra. Leather or latex preferred. Heels. Makeup done. I’d spent the afternoon hunting through Neukölln’s back-street thrift stores: narrow, cluttered caves wedged between döner shops and auto garages. Fluorescents buzzed overhead, racks sagged under the weight of strangers’ wardrobes. Everything smelled faintly of dust, smoke, and...