Kalisa moved through the dim street behind the spice market, her hood pulled low over her face. She was careful and smart about her movements.
She does not want to get anyone involved in what she sees as a looming danger.
She looked back with the side of her eyes to check if she was being followed. The narrow passage was thick with the scent of cumin and rain, and the murmur of distant city life faded behind her.
Every step she took echoed the weight of what she was carrying and what she didn't yet understand.
She reached the rusted green door near the back of the bakery and knocked twice, then once more after a pause. It creaked open seconds later, and a familiar, cautious face appeared.
Sherly stood in front of her with her eyes wide open.
Age had softened her face, but the sharpness in her eyes was still there, the kind that came from years of survival, secrets, and keeping one step ahead of men with blood on their hands.
Sherly kept secrets on behalf of masters, police and criminals. She was one person you ran to if you wanted to possess some kind of knowledge or information you could not get from the streets.
"Kalisa?" she asked, surprised but not unwelcoming. "It's been years. What are you doing here?"
Kalisa stepped inside without answering, glancing behind her before closing the door and bolting it. The small room was warm, lined with bookshelves, cluttered tables, and incense that barely masked the underlying metallic scent of old gun oil.
"I need a favour," Kalisa said quietly, pulling out her phone.
Sherly raised an eyebrow. "That's what they always say, right before they get me in trouble."
Kalisa ignored the jab and tapped her screen. The image of the key appeared under the soft glow of a desk lamp. The etchings shimmered faintly on the polished steel, curling like forgotten runes. She turned the screen toward Sherly. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"
Sherly leaned forward slowly. The moment her eyes locked on the image, the humour drained from her face.
She went still.
The silence stretched.
"Sherly?" Kalisa pressed.
Without a word, Sherly snatched the phone out of her hand, zooming in on the markings. Her fingers trembled slightly. She looked up at Kalisa, her expression taut with something that looked a lot like fear.
"Where did you find this?"
Kalisa didn't answer. Not directly. "What is it?"
Sherly set the phone down, taking a slow breath like she was steadying herself before plunging into something dangerous. "That's not just any key. That's the key. It's supposed to be a secret, kept hidden by the original Dons of the Mafia themselves."
Kalisa frowned. "Secret to what?"
"Not what. Who," Sherly corrected, her voice low. "From what I heard, the key doesn't open just a vault or a chest, it opens a lineage of secrets. A seat. A claim to power older than any living Don today. Rumour has it that it was forged when the Mafia Families were just shadows of what they are now. The Key was passed in blood and betrayal. The person who holds it doesn't just gain power… they inherit everything."
Kalisa stared at her, her thoughts spinning violently. Then, why the hell did Caleb have it? She wondered silently. Caleb was supposed to be an officer of the law.
"Maybe Caleb is part of the Mafia," she thought to herself.
She couldn't make sense of it. He was a detective. A straight-laced, suit-wearing, badge-carrying detective. Not a mobster. Not someone who should be mixed up in this kind of hell.
"Sherly," she said slowly, "I need to know what this thing actually does."
Sherly gave her a pained look. "I'm going to tell you what I told your mother once: don't go chasing the kinds of answers that cost you your life."
Kalisa's breath caught. "My mother? She knew about this?"
"That's not why you're here," Sherly snapped quickly. "Kalisa, listen to me. You need to drop this. Reject any job connected to this key. Don't ask questions. Don't dig. Burn the damn photo from your phone and forget you ever saw it."
Kalisa's voice was ice. "Why?"
Sherly's hands curled into fists on the table. "Because people who go looking for that key end up in graves. You think you're in danger now? This key puts you on the dangerous path of Dons, warlords, ex-mercs, and ghosts of the old world who still think in bullets and bloodlines."
Kalisa didn't speak.
She thought of the men who had opened fire on her. Of the eyes watching her in the hospital. The quiet tension in Caleb's jaw whenever he thought she wasn't looking. She'd been followed. Targeted.
Maybe it was because of this. But no one knew she had it. Not yet.
"I need to know what it does," she whispered again. "I need to know why it's worth killing for."
Sherly's jaw tightened. She looked away, into the fire crackling behind the old stove, like the answer was hiding in the flames.
"No one knows what the key unlocks anymore," she finally said. "Only the forger could tell you. And she's been retired for over thirty years. She lives like a ghost. Disappeared off the map. And even if I did know where to find her, she wouldn't talk. She's too old… and too smart to get involved again."
"You mean the forger is a woman?" Kalisa asked.
Sherly looked at her straight in the eyes, "A dangerous one at that."
Sherly was convinced that Kalisa got her message the way she perceived it. The forger was dangerous.
"Don't go looking for her. No one has come back to tell the tale."
"Then I'll find her," Kalisa said stubbornly.
Sherly's hand snapped out and gripped her wrist, hard.
"No, you won't," she said fiercely. "Kalisa, I've buried too many friends because of that damn key. People who are smarter, faster, and more ruthless than you. Don't let curiosity drag you into something you can't survive."
Kalisa met her gaze, fire sparking behind her tired eyes.
"You know me better than that, Sherly."
The older woman released her wrist, slowly. "That's what scares me."
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The air was thick with warnings and history neither of them fully understood. Kalisa picked up her phone, slid it back into her pocket, and stood.
"If I die," she said softly, "it won't be because I was ignorant."
Sherly sighed. "No. It'll be because you couldn't stop yourself from knowing more."
Kalisa didn't deny it. She pulled her hood up again and turned toward the door.
Sherly didn't stop her, but as Kalisa's hand reached for the knob, the older woman said one last thing, her voice barely above a whisper:
"If you find the forger… don't go alone. And if you ever meet a man who wants that key more than his own life… run."
Kalisa stepped out into the night without looking back, the words etching themselves into her bones.
She was already in too deep.
But the truth?
She wasn't planning to run. Not anymore.
She left with one question in her mind. Her mother. She could not believe that her mother was once a gangster or worked for the mob.
"Sherly can't be wrong, she never was," Kalisa said to herself as she threw herself on her couch on getting home.
"Do you want anything? I made dinner," Lisa's voice cracked through the silence.
"Mom," Kalisa said carefully, eyes narrowing as she studied Lisa's familiar face. "What do you know about a gold key? Old, strange spider markings… important enough to get people killed."
Lisa's spoon clinked softly in her teacup. Her hand paused, frozen mid-stir. A beat passed before she blinked and gave a dismissive laugh, too quick, too forced.
"A key?" she said, as though it was the first time she'd heard the word. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Kalisa didn't respond right away. Her eyes didn't leave her mother's face. Her tone, when she finally spoke, was quiet but unwavering. "I think you do."
Lisa's eyes met hers, hard and steady. "Where are you getting this from?"
Kalisa leaned back, folding her arms. "I didn't come here to answer questions."
Her mother's brows pinched. "Kalisa—"
"I came to ask them," Kalisa said, cutting her off. "You've never told me anything about your past. Not really. Why?"
Lisa sighed heavily, setting her spoon down. "Because there's nothing to tell. I was a nurse. I lived my life quietly. Raised you. That's all."
"People don't just become ghosts," Kalisa said under her breath. "They have to disappear from something."
Lisa's jaw tightened. "What have you gotten yourself into, Kalisa?" Her voice shook slightly now, not from anger, but fear. "You were shot. You came home bleeding and said nothing. You told me it was 'nothing serious' and bandaged it yourself like I wouldn't notice. Then suddenly that detective starts showing up, and ever since, you've been jittery. Restless. Like something's watching you."
Kalisa looked away, jaw tight. "You're reading too much into it."
Lisa leaned forward. "No, I'm your mother. I know when something's wrong. You've changed."
There was a pause. Then Kalisa said, in the flattest voice she could manage, "The detective's my boyfriend."
Lisa blinked, taken aback. "Boyfriend?"
Kalisa shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Yeah. So?"
Lisa wasn't buying it. Her expression turned wary, sceptical. "Detectives don't just date people like you."
Kalisa's brows shot up. "People like me?"
Lisa held her gaze. "I raised you right, but let's not pretend, Kalisa. You've always been… on the edge. With your friends, your jobs. You deal in shadows. And now, you're carrying around questions about secret keys that bring nothing but death. You think I don't see the danger in your eyes?"
Kalisa's breath caught, but she prepared herself to respond firmly. "I'm not a gangster, Mom."
Lisa arched a brow. "No?"
"I'm into business," Kalisa snapped, her voice sharp like glass. "Smart business. Deals. Information. Survival."
Lisa sat back slowly, a hollow look settling on her face.
Kalisa stood, unable to sit still any longer. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "You act like you're so innocent. But I know you're hiding something. Your name isn't even real, is it?"
Lisa looked at her daughter, the weight of old sins behind her eyes. But she said nothing. Just pressed her lips into a thin line.
"You're the one who taught me how to disappear," Kalisa continued, her voice softer now, more accusing than angry. "How to lie without blinking. You think I forgot that?"
"I taught you to survive," Lisa said quietly. "Not to go digging graves you might fall into."
Lisa stood and reached out, gently placing her hand on Kalisa's arm. "Just promise me," she said, voice trembling now, "if this… key… brings more danger, you'll walk away. Don't chase things that are bigger than you. These people, these men, they don't fight fair."
Kalisa's heart beat fast, like the sound of distant drums.
Too late for that.
But she didn't say it.
Instead, she gave a small, practised smile. "I'll be fine, Mom."
Lisa watched her daughter a moment longer, searching for the girl she once rocked to sleep. But all she saw now was a storm behind those eyes.
"I hope so," she whispered.