Chapter 6 — Chapter 06

That night, I dreamed of fire.

I stood in a cellar like the one beneath the Ashworth mansion, but the walls were glowing red-hot, and the air was thick with smoke. Voices screamed around me — not words, just rage and pain and the sound of a city dying.

And in the center of the flames, a man watched me. Muttonchops. Restless eyes.

Arthur Ashworth.

He opened his mouth, but the words that came out weren't sound. They were knowledge — images that poured into my head like water into a drowning man's lungs.

The ledger. Where it was hidden. What it contained. Who it would destroy.

And then he was gone, and I woke with the taste of ash in my mouth and a single word echoing in my skull:

*JUSTICE.*

I wrote down the location in my notebook. My hands were shaking.

I didn't believe in ghosts.

But I was starting to believe they believed in me.