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- Herausgeber: via tolino media
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
“The Night Knows No Friends” draws readers into a dark, mysterious city where intrigue, betrayal, and simmering violence shape everyday life. Between narrow alleyways and under the cover of night move figures whose intentions are not always clear. Friend and foe blur together, and every encounter carries the potential for treachery—or for unexpected alliances. At the center stands a character who bravely navigates threats, makes difficult choices, and explores the moral gray areas of this world. Every action has consequences, every encounter shifts the balance of power, and the line between right and wrong grows increasingly indistinct. The story captivates with suspense, psychological depth, and complex characters whose motives often remain hidden. A web of secrets, loyalty, deception, and inner conflict unfolds—drawing readers in and leaving them thoughtful long after. “The Night Knows No Friends” is a psychological thriller full of atmosphere, tension, and literary intensity. A story about power, morality, intrigue, and the question of how far one is willing to go to defend their beliefs.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Erjon Alimi
The Night Knows No Friends
Chapter 1
The city rarely slept, but that night it seemed more restless than usual. A cold wind blew through the narrow streets, whirling scraps of paper and causing the lanterns to flicker erratically. Rain still hung in the air, and the asphalt glistened darkly, as if it had swallowed secrets.
It was one of those nights when stories of betrayal and guilt seemed to write themselves. And in the middle of it all stood a figure whose name carried little weight: Adrian Keller. Adrian Keller.
Adrian was not a hero in the classic sense. At least not at first glance. He seemed inconspicuous, but his gaze was sharp and almost uncomfortably penetrating. He was an observer, a thinker, someone who preferred to remain silent and let others talk. He lived in a world where power was distributed not only through money, but also through words and rumors.
That evening, he moved purposefully through the streets, his hands deep in the pockets of his worn coat. His path led him to a neighborhood that other people avoided at night: the area around the old harbor. Here, honest work and shady dealings had long since become indistinguishable.
Three men were already waiting in one of the narrow alleys between a disused warehouse and an abandoned kiosk. They were tense, and although they were smoking, their every gesture betrayed that this was no casual meeting.
“You're late,” growled the largest of them. He was a man with an angular face and a deep scar on his cheek. They called him Rau – a name that suited both his voice and his methods.
Adrian shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly. “I'm here, that's enough.”
The answer was terse, almost defiant. It showed a self-confidence that did not fit the image of a weak loner. And yet – Adrian was alone, the three men were not.
“You know why we're here,” said a second man. He was younger, perhaps in his early thirties, and wore expensive shoes that didn't belong in this alley. His name was Jonas Brandt and he was the son of an influential businessman. For him, power was a given and violence was merely a tool that others wielded for him.
“You want a confession,” said Adrian. It didn't sound like a question.
A brief silence followed, then a derisive laugh from Rau. “A confession? We want you to tell the truth. In front of everyone. So there are no more doubts.”
The truth – a word that weighed heavier than any weapon that evening.
Adrian knew what was going on. A few weeks ago, something had happened that had shaken the balance of power in this city: a break-in at the Brandt Industries company archive. Documents had disappeared—documents that proved links between politicians, businesspeople, and criminal networks.
No one had seen Adrian. No one could prove it was him. But the rumors persisted, fueled by those who had an interest in them.
“And if I don't talk?” Adrian asked calmly.
Jonas's gaze darkened. “Then you'll find that silence can be expensive.”
A threatening silence spread, interrupted only by the dripping of water from a rusty gutter.
Adrian was no fool. He knew his opponents hadn't lured him here to talk. It was a power play, an attempt to break him – or take him out of the game for good.
But what Jonas and his men didn't know was that Adrian was prepared.
“You think you're pulling all the strings,” he began in a low voice. “But you don't understand how quickly nets can get tangled.”
The words seemed cryptic at first, but Adrian spoke with a conviction that made the men pause for a moment.
“What are you getting at?” Rau hissed.
Adrian took a step closer, the light from the flickering lantern half-illuminating his face. “I made copies.”
A twitch crossed Jonas's face. For a moment, his arrogant superiority gave way to uncertainty. “You're bluffing.”
“Maybe,” Adrian replied, "but if I disappear tonight, something will end up in the right hands tomorrow. Hands you can't control."
The silence that followed was different this time. It was not the silence of threat, but of deliberation.
Adrian had turned the tables. The supposed victim had become a player, one who understood the rules and knew how to use them.
The three opponents looked at each other. Rau growled as if he wanted to strike immediately, but Jonas raised his hand appeasingly.
“Leave him alone. We have to act wisely,” he said in a strained voice.
Adrian sensed the change. He had taken the decisive step—the roles in this game were no longer the same.
“You want the truth,” he said slowly. “Fine, but not here, not like this.”
Jonas clenched his fists, but forced himself to remain calm. “Then tell me when and where.”
Adrian smiled weakly, a smile without warmth. “I'll decide that.”
The meeting ended without blows and without bloodshed. But the battle had begun – a battle for interpretation, for truth, for control.
Adrian disappeared back into the darkness of the alleys, while the three men remained behind, each lost in his own thoughts.
The city continued to bustle, indifferent to the power games being played within it. But something had changed. An invisible thread had been stretched, a web of lies, half-truths, and hidden intentions.
At the center of this web stood Adrian, a figure seen by some as a hero and by others as a traitor.
Which truth would prevail in the end was still uncertain. But one thing was certain: this story had only just begun.
Chapter 2
The city had two faces. During the day, it seemed to be a place of bustling activity: people hurried to work, children played in parks, and tourists lingered in cafés. But as soon as the sun went down, it transformed. Behind the facades of the old buildings, in the dark corners of the alleys, and in the back rooms of expensive restaurants, the real business began.
Adrian Keller knew this better than most. He moved like a shadow through these two worlds, never quite belonging, never quite excluded. He was not a rich man, not a politician, and not an official holder of power. But he possessed something more dangerous: knowledge.
The morning after the encounter in the harbor district, the city seemed almost harmless. The sun broke through the clouds, making the raindrops from the previous day sparkle. People bustled through the streets. Anyone who saw Adrian that morning would have thought he was just another passerby.
He wore his coat buttoned up, walked calmly, and kept his eyes alert. But in his head, the conversation with Jonas Brandt and his men continued to spin.
They hadn't touched him that evening. But Adrian knew that this was only a respite. Men like Jonas were never satisfied with threats. Sooner or later, they would find a way to regain control.
And so Adrian had to act before they did.
His first stop that day was not home. He took the subway to a neighborhood that seemed unremarkable to most people, but for him was a kind of retreat. Between gray apartment blocks and run-down shops was a small internet café with a few regular customers.
The owner, an older man with thick eyebrows who smelled permanently of nicotine, barely nodded to Adrian when he entered. Words were rarely necessary here.
Adrian sat down at one of the old computers in a separate alcove, plugged in a USB stick, and began opening files.
They were copies—the very ones he had talked about the night before. Pages of spreadsheets, handwritten notes, and emails between men who were respected by the outside world. Names of politicians, businessmen, and police officers. Sums amounting to millions had been moved around.
Adrian let his eyes glide over the documents. Each of these sheets was like a drop of poison in the city's waterways. Anyone who read them could no longer believe in the facade that the powerful had laboriously built up.
He knew that this information was both his weapon and his curse. In the wrong hands, it would destroy him. In the right hands, however, it could shake the system to its core.
But what were “the right hands”?
While Adrian was reading the files, his enemies were also active. Jonas Brandt, the businessman's son, sat in an air-conditioned office on the twelfth floor of a glass building that morning. From here, he had a view of the city that made him feel like he could see everything.
But uncertainty gnawed at him. The meeting with Adrian had left its mark. The possibility that copies actually existed gnawed at his conscience like a thorn.
“We have to watch him,” Jonas said as he stood by the window with a glass of water.
“We're already watching him,” replied Rau, who was sitting in one of the leather armchairs. “But the guy is careful. Too careful. If he really has evidence, he's hidden it well.”
Jonas gritted his teeth. “Then we have to get him to make a mistake.”
It was the same old story: anyone who knew the truth was dangerous. Jonas was used to not eliminating dangers himself, but having them eliminated.
Meanwhile, Adrian put the USB stick back in its case. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the memories of everything he had seen.
He hadn't been a greedy thief. He hadn't stolen the documents to enrich himself. He had taken them because he had seen the rot that was spreading through the city.
