Novels by StarVessel

Four people, three guns, one bomb, and time running out like blood from wounds that kept multiplying.Ryan's weapon tracked between targets with calculation of man who'd spent career evaluating risk-reward ratios. "Lower the gun, sweetheart. This is business, not personal. You understand business."Vivian's face shifted through emotions too fast to catalog as realization crashed through delusions that had sustained her through months of deterioration. "The bomb was YOUR idea. You convinced me to plant it. Told me it was only way to make Ethan suffer. But you were setting me up to take blame while you profited from insurance fraud.""You were always so easy to manipulate." Ryan's smile was casual dismissal of woman whose life he'd destroyed for profit margins. "The jealous ex-wife? Perfect patsy. Authorities would've blamed you for everything while I collected forty million and disappeared into retirement nobody could trace."Vivian's scream was primal thing—years of manipulation and b

Patricia's revelation detonated worse than any bomb could've.FBI command center erupted into motion as agents scrambled to verify threat that sounded like dying woman's final manipulation but couldn't be dismissed without confirmation. Tracking Vivian's ankle monitor became priority one in operation that had already stretched resources past breaking point.Location pinged back within seconds—Cross Enterprises headquarters.The building was full. Five hundred employees working late on quarterly reports that had deadline tomorrow, unaware they were sitting in structure that might become tomb if Vivian had followed through on whatever insanity Patricia had recruited her for."Monitor was disabled twenty minutes ago." Agent Torres pulled up timeline showing signal going dark. "Security didn't flag it because system's been glitchy since her initial arrest. Assumed it was technical error rather than deliberate sabotage."Security footage showed Vivian entering through service entrance wher

"Four."Ethan's hand moved toward weapon with calculation racing faster than Patricia's countdown.He could shoot her before she triggered detonation. Bullet through center mass would drop her instantly. Problem was the detonator itself—dead man's switch designed so releasing button would send signal just as surely as pressing it.Patricia had thought of EVERYTHING. There was no winning move in game she'd rigged from inception."Three.""Let her go!" Lily's scream carried desperation that broke around edges. "I don't care about revenge! I don't care about justice! Save my parents! Just let her walk away!""Two."Ethan's face was stone carved from decision that would haunt him regardless of outcome. "I'm sorry, Lily. But I can't let her win. Not this time. Not ever."His weapon rose with precision born from years pulling triggers when hesitation meant death.Patricia's smile widened with anticipation of detonation or martyrdom—either outcome satisfied delusions that had consumed ration

Chaos tasted like failure served cold.FBI command center erupted into coordinated panic as every federal agency mobilized searching for woman who'd escaped custody while making fools of people whose job was preventing exactly this scenario. Airports received alerts. Border crossings went on high alert. Safe houses were raided with aggression born of embarrassment.But Ethan knew Patricia wasn't running.She'd spent twenty-five years orchestrating revenge that was personal rather than profitable. Running meant abandoning satisfaction of watching him suffer, and Patricia valued vengeance more than survival."She's not fleeing." His voice cut through tactical discussions about perimeter searches and dragnet operations. "She's attacking. Question is WHERE."Marcus pulled up psychological profile his team had compiled during investigation. "Patricia doesn't want random casualties. Body count is secondary to making YOU suffer specifically. Target will be personal. Somewhere that matters to

The FBI emergency session felt like tribunal where justice had been gagged and bound in corner while pragmatism sat at head of table making decisions that would haunt everyone present.Patricia sat in interrogation room looking composed despite circumstances that should've broken her. Expensive lawyer materialized within hours—woman named Alexandra Volkov who specialized in making impossible cases winnable through technicalities and moral blackmail."My client has information about imminent terrorist attack on US soil." Volkov's voice carried professional detachment of surgeon discussing amputation. "Coordinated assault planned for seventy-two hours from now. Major metropolitan area. Conservative estimate puts casualties in thousands."FBI Director James Morrison paced conference room adjacent to interrogation, watching Patricia through one-way glass with expression mixing revulsion and desperation. "She'll provide details?""Only if granted full immunity from all charges, witness pro

The trap closed with precision Patricia had spent twenty-five years perfecting.Ethan stood holding Lily while realization crashed through him like ice water—he'd been recorded killing eight men on livestream watched by millions. Context didn't matter. Justification was irrelevant. Public only saw billionaire's brutal rampage, violence delivered with efficiency that looked like monster unleashed rather than desperate rescue.Patricia's voice carried through building via speakers she'd positioned for exactly this moment. "Officers, please hurry! He's dangerous criminal who kidnapped ME, forced me to help orchestrate this massacre. I barely survived!"Her narrative to media was masterwork of manipulation—she was victim, he was villain, and truth drowned beneath tide of public outrage building in real-time across social platforms.Police surrounded building with weapons drawn and orders that didn't include distinguishing between hero and murderer. Twenty cops forming perimeter that meant