Matt Murdock defends the Punisher in the trial of the century—the murder of the Kingpin—while by night Daredevil staves off a war of succession for the throne of the criminal underworld. Los Angeles Times Book Prize winner Alex Segura (Secret Identity) pens an all-new Marvel Crime thriller novel for adult readers.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Enemy of My Enemy: A Daredevil Marvel Crime Novel by Alex Segura, which releases on March 24th 2026.
When reports come in that the Kingpin and a police officer have been killed and that Frank Castle (aka the Punisher) has turned himself in for it, Matt Murdock senses holes in the narratives the media and the streets are quick to run with.
Both criminals have been Matt’s nemeses when he dons the cowl of the Daredevil, and there’s no denying that New York is better off without its Kingpin and with the Punisher behind bars. And yet . . . while the Punisher is a murderous vigilante, he doesn’t kill cops. And he doesn’t turn himself in.
Castle certainly deserves prison for all of the other crimes he has committed in the past. However, Matt’s indominable sense of justice insists that nobody should be locked away for crimes they didn’t actually commit. Representing the vigilante in court, Matt enters a contest of wills and guile with Castle to try and uncover the game beneath the game. And when Matt’s girlfriend takes the stand and complicates matters, there’s truly no rest for the wicked or the just. As the Kingpin’s absence causes passion and ambitions to run hot in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt must decide if justice means the letter of the law, what’s best for the citizen on the streets, or where his heart leading him.
Enemy of My Enemy continues the Marvel Crime series that began with Lisa Jewell’s Breaking the Dark, and brings fans into a grittier, street-level side of the Marvel Universe. Marvel Crime novels build on one another but do not require in-depth familiarity with Marvel or the other books in the series.
Chapter 4
“MATT MURDOCK, you’re allowed to smile.”
Matt recognized the voice immediately—not just because it was the woman he was planning to meet, but because he could pick Melinda Torres’s almost melodic lilt out of any crowd. Her tone was powerful but soothing, the sweet tang of her designer perfume another dead giveaway.
Matt did smile, slightly, as he pulled out a chair for himself at Serafina, the Midtown bistro Melinda had chosen for an impromptu lunch. His radar sense could make out her figure, could suss out the tilt of her head that told him she was kidding, and the speeding up of her heartbeat that told him she was happy to see him.
“Duly noted, Officer,” Matt said as he took his seat.
Melinda reached out her hand and clasped Matt’s tightly. He could hear the slight scrape of her shoes on the concrete as her body tensed up.
He smiled again. “Thanks for the invite.”
In reality, he could’ve done without the social call—the need to find Frank Castle had consumed every waking moment Matt had to spare, in and out of the Daredevil costume. But if Matt had learned anything over his years as the Man Without Fear, it was that he had to at least play the part, lest people start asking questions about what lawyer Matt Murdock did with his time. Plus, it wasn’t hard to convince himself to see Melinda.
“Of course,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I wanted to see you. I missed you. It’s okay to say that, right?”
“I’ve missed you, too,” Matt said. “And if it’s not okay, then we’ll both be wrong together.”
Melinda let out a quick, machine-gun-fire laugh. Hearty but brief. They’d been dating for little over a month—she the NYPD Internal Affairs officer who’d grown jaded and disillusioned by the job, he the passionate defense attorney who hadn’t. He liked to think his optimism perked her up. He found her unflinching view of the world sobering, but not depressing. It was still early days, Matt knew, but he felt a balance with Melinda he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Not since—
Not since Karen Page.
Matt shook his head gently, trying to shake the image out of his mind. Karen, the woman he’d wanted to marry, in his arms, dying. The maniac Bullseye looking on, eyes wide, mouth twisted into a terrifying grin—
Not now, Matt thought.
“You there, Murdock?”
Matt blinked under his thick glasses and looked toward Melinda— never at her directly. Matt knew that even though his radar sense could be as precise, if not more so, than the vision of most people, he still had to give the impression that he couldn’t see anything.
“I am, just a little tired,” Matt said, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve become obsessed with this Fisk situation.”
“You and everyone in the city, Matt,” Melinda said with a quick shake of her head. “I can’t escape it. The most powerful guy in the
city, gunned down in his own office by the Punisher? I mean, I know the guy killed criminals, but how did he even get to Fisk?”
Matt could feel Melinda dancing around what the public knew and what she knew as someone on the inside. Matt didn’t want to violate the tentative trust they’d built together, the understanding that they were sometimes on opposite sides of the legal process and that if they were to make this work, they’d have to respect that. But he was also desperate for any kind of lead—even the tiniest of breadcrumbs. That, coupled with his own exhaustion, led him to make a mistake.
“And the cop,” Matt blurted out as the waiter came by with a pair of menus. Matt took the one he was handed and placed it gingerly in front of him.
“How do you know that?” Melinda asked without hesitation.
“I have sources,” Matt said, trying to keep it light, but also realizing he was talking with his foot in his mouth. He’d pushed too far, too fast. “I’m hearing that a cop was on the scene and died, too—but the NYPD is keeping it under wraps until Castle is in custody.”
Melinda looked down at the menu, but Matt could tell she wasn’t reading it, she was thinking. Stewing over what to say. Suddenly the mood had shifted from friendly and flirtatious to tense and uncertain. Matt was okay with a little discomfort if it meant getting some intel, but he wasn’t sure that was going to happen.
Melinda looked up. Based on her heart rate, Matt knew he’d overstepped before she spoke.
“I was hoping we’d have a nice lunch, fool around, and then I’d go back to the misery of my desk,” Melinda said, her voice a hissing whisper. “I didn’t expect my sort-of boyfriend to circle above me like some information vulture. If you have a question, ask me. But don’t be surprised if I don’t answer. And if I stop answering your calls or texts, period.”
Matt sighed. He ran a hand across his face and could feel the wear and tear of long nights. He was tired. He was at a dead end. After visiting the Kingpin’s office, Matt as Daredevil had scoured the city looking for Frank Castle—scoping out old hideouts, known associates like Micro, chasing rumors, and running himself ragged. He needed a lead, but he should have known this was not the way to get it.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said, wincing. “I didn’t mean it that way, but you have every right to be mad.”
He leaned over and placed a hand on Melinda’s arm. She tensed, but didn’t pull back.
“Can we start over?”
Matt could hear her heart rate slow down. Could sense her body relaxing.
“You can start over, Mr. Murdock,” she said. “And today, lunch is most definitely on you.”
Matt laughed. On some level, he felt relief. Another part of him was elsewhere, thinking about how Melinda’s heart skipped a beat when he’d mentioned Sheehan.
((((( )))))
He hated doing this. That’s what he told himself.
Hated how he’d walked her to her train, hand in hand, only to find an alley and change into his red suit and follow her to the precinct. He didn’t suspect Melinda of anything, but he did think she knew something. And, right now, Daredevil was desperate for any kind of knowledge that might help him find Frank Castle or get a sense of what an aging cop like Sheehan was doing with the Kingpin.
Wilson Fisk often kept cops on his payroll—he kept judges, lawyers, and politicians on there, too. It wasn’t anything new for a man of his power. The easy explanation could be that Sheehan was a crooked cop, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and paid the price. And his record left space for that. He wasn’t the perfect cop, and he had abused his power on more than one occasion. So why did Daredevil feel like he was missing something?
He perched himself on a rooftop adjacent to Melinda’s office. He could barely make out her voice through the noise of the street, the office, and the city—it was like following soft piano music emanating from someone’s phone in the middle of a crowded club. But Daredevil had spent years training to use and hone his powers—at first on his own but later under the tutelage of Stick, a martial arts master who understood Daredevil’s gifts in ways that he still couldn’t. He sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes. He let the sounds engulf his mind. The screeching of a truck’s brakes. The blaring of music from
someone’s stereo. The heated argument a man was having with his partner. The jingle of keys as someone opened the front door to their store. The rustle of paper as someone stacked sheets together after printing them. A soft whistle.
There—that was Melinda.
He tried to hold on to her voice, her sounds, and felt himself following her—as if he were outside his own body. He could hear her footsteps walking through the packed Internal Affairs department. The pleasantries exchanged as she headed farther into the office. Her lips touching her coffee mug and slowly sipping on hot mint tea. The click of her door opening. Then something else.
“You got a minute, Torres?”
“Detective Gunderson—yes. I was about to hop on a call—”
“It’s urgent.”
“Then follow me.”
Another click, then the sound of a lock. The scraping of chair legs being pulled back. A long sigh from Melinda.
Daredevil hated doing this. Hated it.
“We’ve got some intel on Sheehan,” Gunderson said.
“I’m all ears,” Melinda said.
Daredevil could relate. He took a long breath.
The ruffling of papers. The sound of one sheet being slid out of a pile.
“Looks like his brother, Terry—lives out on Staten Island—has been doing really well for himself lately,” Gunderson said.
A pause. Daredevil visualized Melinda scanning a bank balance sheet or account snapshot.
“That’s a lot of zeroes,” Melinda said dryly.
“Pretty good for someone who works for sanitation.”
“Where’s it coming from?”
“That’s the problem,” Gunderson continued. “The company paying Terry Sheehan is a shell of a shell—Mezinis and Charleston. You hit their website and they claim to be a cleaning company, the people you hire to detox your office or clean big spaces. But there’s no way to contact them and they aren’t listed by the Chamber of Commerce.”
Melinda cleared her throat before responding.
“Can you trace the site itself?”
“We tried. It’s one of those CubeSpace deals—different company,
Blue Fusion Enterprises. No site, no address, nothing,” Gunderson said,
exasperation seeping into every word. “We’ve hit a wall.”
“You talked to the brother yet?”
“Not yet. We’re trying to keep the Sheehan part of this under wraps, but the second we start sniffing around, the second we ask Terry what’s up with his bank account, we’ll see it on the internet. ‘Police Officer Killed on Scene of Kingpin Murder, Unreported Until Now.’ Which, hey, it’s the truth—but we need that info. We need to keep something to ourselves to help figure this out.” NYPD rarely kept the death of a police officer quiet—even if the perp was still on the loose, Daredevil thought as he listened. He filed the idea away. Another oddity complicating the bigger picture.
“I understand, Gunderson, but what do you want me to do about it?” Melinda said, her patience dwindling. “My investigation into Sheehan disappeared once he died.”
Daredevil’s mind seemed to freeze in place, wheels screeching to a halt. Melinda had already been investigating Sheehan? For what?
“Was he the cleanest cop on the force? Not by a mile,” she continued. “But I never would’ve pegged him for a Kingpin goon. Now you tell me his little brother is raking in tens of thousands of dollars—and has been for months. That means I might’ve been wrong. But I don’t have any evidence; this paper you just handed to me isn’t it. You need to figure out a way to talk to his brother and figure out what the hell Sheehan was doing with the Kingpin and the Punisher. If this gets out, we’re in an ocean of shit I don’t want to have to swim out of. We may already be cooked. We need this fixed, yesterday. Understood? Make it go away.”
Daredevil didn’t hear Gunderson get up and leave. He was already swinging south—torn by the choice he’d made, and the information it’d given him.
