The morning light was gray and unforgiving, seeping through the partly opened window in Thelma’s bedroom. It fell directly on her face, cruelly highlighting the dark, puffy circles under her eyes. She hadn’t slept. She just stared out at the waking city, not really seeing it, her mind a frantic, churning whirlpool. Her other businesses, the ones she had poured her soul into, had quietly collapsed one by one. The debt was a mountain, a crushing weight on her chest that made it hard to breathe. Heath’s promise of 500 million had been a shimmering lifeline, a guarantee of salvation. Now, with Natalia’s rejection, that lifeline had been severed right before her eyes. She didn’t know what to do. The sheer panic of it made her feel hollow.She recalled Natalia’s threat from last night—you’ll end up in jail where you belong—and a fresh wave of anger made her frown. But the memory that followed, the grim, disembodied voice from the phone call, sent a violent chill straight down her spine. Tha

The two thugs scrambled to their feet, their pride stung more painfully than the slap The sight of their boss, Paulo, standing there with his back turned, was a silent accusation. They couldn't be shown up like this, not by some random guy on a motorcycle. Fear of his disappointment—and his wrath—got them moving faster than any courage could.They came at Nathan again, but this time it wasn't with the wild, telegraphed swings of before. There was a desperate coordination to it now, a frantic attempt to overwhelm him. One came in low with a baton aimed at his knees, while the other tried to loop a chain around his neck from behind.But Nathan was already moving. He wasn't a brawler; he was a calculator. He sidestepped the low swing, his boot coming down to pin the baton to the ground. At the same time, he ducked his head, letting the chain whistle harmlessly over him. He moved with an economy of motion that was both terrifying and impressive to watch. There were no wasted gestures, no

Ignoring the cries of his loyal men, Paulo was already in the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and he sped off down the street, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust, fleeing like a coward who had just escaped a predator’s den.Nathan just watched him go, his expression unreadable. But as the jeep disappeared around a corner, his eyes narrowed. Just for a second, he had caught a clear glimpse of the intricate dragon tattoo coiled around Paulo’s right forearm. It seemed familiar. The design… he was sure he’d seen it somewhere before.However, the immediate situation demanded his attention. Seeing their boss had truly abandoned them to their fate, the two men forgot their pain and their pride. They crawled through the dirt on their hands and knees to Nathan’s feet, their bodies trembling.“Please, sir,” one of them begged, his voice thick with tears and snot. “Please, don’t kill us.”“We’ll do anything,” the other whined, clutching at the hem of Nathan’s pants. “Just let us live

The air in Gregg’s lavish office was thick with the smell of expensive cologne and simmering rage. Gregg paced behind his massive mahogany desk like a caged tiger, his custom-made Italian loafers making no sound on the plush carpet. He ripped at his silk tie, loosening the knot as if it were choking him, his face flushed a blotchy red.“I’ve lost all patience, Scar!” he barked into his phone, his voice a near-yell that bounced off the soundproofed walls. “I need results, not a stream of pathetic excuses! It’s been almost three days! Seventy-two hours, and you’re still yet to decode a single one of those documents! What the hell am I paying you for?!”On the other end, Scar’s weary and frustrated voice replied, the words sounding rehearsed from overuse. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gregg, sir. The encryption is… It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s a labyrinth. Every time I think I’ve found a path, it shifts. I’m working on it day and night, I promise you…”“Enough of the bullshit apologies!” Gre

Scar took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit one, the flame illuminating the hard planes of his face for a moment. He took a long drag. “Where are your men?” he asked, the question casual but his eyes watchful.“They’re useless,” Paulo said, looking at the floor. “So I’ve done away with them.”Scar chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “You’re useless too. The difference is, I haven’t done away with you yet. You’re just a smart thief. It’s still an advantage, I suppose.” He smoked in silence for a moment, the tension thick enough to taste. Then he asked, “I hope those documents are kept somewhere safe?”“Yes,” Paulo said quickly.“Where?”“Here.”Scar stopped, the cigarette halfway to his lips. “Huh?”Paulo gulped, realizing his mistake too late. “I’ve… I’ve kept them here. In my house.”Scar’s eyes widened, then his face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He looked around the shabby, insecure little room as if seeing it for the first time. “What the fuck?!” he yelled