A Moment of DoubtI exhale sharply, my breath fogging up the window as I stare into the night. The city sprawls below, lights flickering like dying stars against the darkness. From up here, it looks peaceful, almost serene. But I know better. Beneath that manufactured glow is a world rotting at its core, ruled by shadows and whispers.I should feel victorious. I’ve done everything The Oath asked of me—every mission, every sacrifice, every bloodstained decision. I played my part, followed every order without question. And yet, standing here now, there’s an emptiness pressing against my ribs, heavy and suffocating.My fingers tighten against the cool glass, knuckles whitening.Why doesn’t it feel like enough?A soft knock behind me. I don’t turn. I already know it’s her.“You’re brooding again,” Evelyn murmurs, her voice smooth, but laced with something else. Concern, maybe.I let out a low chuckle, hollow and humorless. “Is that what we call it now?”Her reflection joins mine in the gl

A Job Too FamiliarThe briefing is the same. The setup is the same. The orders are the same.And so is the lie.I sit in a dimly lit room, the stale scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. The projector hums, flashing grainy surveillance images onto the wall. A man in his mid-forties, expensive suit, with tired eyes. A name I won’t remember. Because I’ve done this before. Again. And again. And again.Dante’s voice is smooth and rehearsed. "The target is a liability. We need him removed quietly."I lean back in my chair, arms crossed. The leather creaks beneath me. I don’t ask why. I already know the answer. The Oath never eliminates threats—it eliminates inconveniences.I should walk away. I should say no.Instead, I say nothing.Evelyn glances at me from across the table. She knows. Knows I don’t believe in this anymore. Knows I’m running out of reasons to pretend I do. But she also knows I don’t have a choice. Not yet.Dante taps the file in front of him. “Nathan. This one’s

The Price of PowerPower isn’t freedom.That’s the lie they sell you in the beginning.They tell you that if you climb high enough if you prove yourself ruthless enough, you’ll never have to take orders again. No one will touch you. No one will question you. You’ll stand above it all, untouchable.But I know better now.The more power The Oath gives me, the heavier it becomes.It drags behind me like a chain, growing thicker with everybody I drop, every deal I make, every mission I don’t walk away from.I used to think I could claw my way out of this life. That if I fought hard enough, I could carve my own path.But power isn’t an escape. It’s a cage with gilded bars.And I just locked myself inside it.---The air is thick with cigarette smoke and whiskey when I step into the meeting room. The Oath’s higher-ups sit around the long table, their faces half-lit by the dim chandeliers overhead. They watch me like wolves circling fresh meat.I don’t blink.I don’t flinch.I know what they

An Unexpected EncounterThe city moves like it always does—fast, relentless, indifferent. People pass by, faces blurred by motion, voices merging into one endless hum of traffic and life. I’ve always liked it that way. The anonymity. The way no one stops to look too closely.Until someone does.I feel it before I see it. The weight of a stare, the pull of recognition. A presence that shouldn’t be there yet is.I turn, scanning the crowded sidewalk.And then I see him.For a second, I don’t believe it.Too many years have passed. Too much has changed. But the eyes are the same—sharp, piercing, too damn familiar.Jesse Monroe.A name I haven’t spoken in years. A ghost I thought I’d buried.His expression shifts the moment our eyes meet—shock, then disbelief, then something else. Something raw."Nathan?" His voice cuts through the noise like a blade.I don’t move.I should walk away. I should disappear into the city like I always do.But my feet don’t listen.Jesse takes a step closer li

: A WarningThe message comes at midnight.No name. No sender. Just five words.Don’t think we haven’t noticed.My fingers tighten around the phone, the cold glow of the screen cutting through the darkness of my apartment. Outside, the city hums—sirens in the distance, the occasional honk, the restless energy of a place that never sleeps.I don’t move.A warning.Not a threat—yet—but close enough.The Oath doesn’t tolerate hesitation. Doubt. Second thoughts. And I’ve been showing all three, whether I meant to or not.I lock my phone and toss it onto the counter. My gun sits next to it, gleaming under the dim kitchen light. A silent reminder that I’ve made my choices. That every hesitation, every misstep, is another crack in the foundation I built to survive.I should respond. Should say something to reassure them.Instead, I grab a drink.The whiskey burns as it goes down, but it doesn’t dull the weight pressing against my ribs.They’re watching.Of course, they are.I take another si