It began with a headline.“Imperium Corp’s Nathaniel Cade Implicated in Offshore Tax Fraud, Photos Reveal Secret Dealings.”The article hit every major outlet by dawn. A cascade of accusations followed—edited screenshots of suspicious wire transfers, photographs of Nathan entering a private villa rumored to host covert meetings, even a voice memo that barely sounded like him but was spun as a confession. By mid-morning, media vans circled Imperium Corp’s glass-and-steel headquarters like vultures scenting blood.The elevators were clogged. Assistants panicked. Phones rang non-stop. PR executives scrambled to spin a counter-narrative, but the damage was done—the court of public opinion had issued its verdict, and it wasn’t waiting for a defense.Nathan stood at the edge of the conference room, staring out at the flashing lights below. He said nothing, but his clenched jaw spoke volumes. The board had called an emergency meeting. Investors were breathing down his neck. His legacy, the T

The final day of the TriSummit arrived with the polish of a flawless performance.Diplomats, executives, and military liaisons filled the grand atrium of Imperium Corp’s headquarters. A glass dome overhead bathed the crowd in morning light, refracted through filtered security panels. The keynote stage gleamed beneath focused spotlights, already surrounded by camera crews and speechwriters murmuring in hushed urgency.Harper moved like a shadow through the backstage corridors, comms clipped discreetly to her ear. Her eyes flicked between schematics on her tablet and the real-world layout. Balcony access sealed. Rooftop sweeps completed. Still, the tension clung to her spine like a cold breath.“Sniper nest was neutralized,” she whispered into her mic. “But something still feels off.”Nathan, standing behind the velvet curtain, adjusted the cuff of his dark charcoal suit. His expression was unreadable, but Harper saw the fatigue under his eyes. He hadn’t slept. Not properly. Not since t

The old textile mill on the outskirts of Rhyne City had been dormant for years—or so the records said. In reality, it pulsed with covert activity beneath its rusting exterior. Ethan’s off-the-books lab, hidden behind false contracts and a shell corporation, was ground zero for the production of neurological suppressors—a chemical agent capable of rendering resistance fighters docile without a trace.Nathan had authorized the takedown two days prior.He knew it had to be Harper leading the unit. She had field experience, operational instincts, and—perhaps most importantly—a mind capable of mirroring Ethan’s unpredictability.Now, under the veil of night, Harper crouched behind a toppled conveyor belt inside the mill’s third sector, her comm crackling with interference. The initial breach had gone smoothly—too smoothly. The intel had said minimal guards. In reality, her five-person team had walked into a death trap.Three were already down. The fourth was bleeding from the thigh behind

Nathan stood before the war table, the tactical map glowing beneath his fingertips. His face was pale, still recovering from the toxin that nearly killed him, but his eyes were sharp. Clear and lethal.Harper stepped beside him, suited in black utility gear, her tablet already synced to the incoming intel.“The poison failed,” Nathan said quietly. “That means Ethan’s desperate. He’s losing ground faster than he thought.”Harper nodded. “And that gives us an opening. I’ve identified one of his key labs—hidden under an abandoned textile plant outside Bratislava. It’s not just a facility. It’s where they’re mass-producing the neurological suppressors.”Nathan’s jaw clenched. “The same ones used in the Edenfield experiments.”She didn’t have to answer. He already knew.“I’ll lead the strike team,” she said.“No,” he said instinctively. “You nearly lost me last night—”“And I’m not losing you by sitting this out. I know how Ethan thinks. I’ve studied his old battle doctrines, field tests,

Nathan turned the leather-bound book over in his hands for the third time that evening. The Silent Mind—a gift from Harper. She’d handed it to him just after they wrapped the Pacific hearing, smiling like she’d found the perfect thing. “For when the world is too loud,” she had said. “Find your stillness.” He hadn’t understood it then.Tonight, with Harper missing and silence crawling over every wall of his apartment, the words hit differently.He sighed and opened it. The pages had been thumbed through, but something felt off now. The weight distribution. His eyes scanned the margins again, flipped past the mid-chapters. A quiet clink interrupted the stillness.Something metallic slid out from between pages 147 and 148 and landed softly on the floor.A silver key.Not one from his collection of classified lockboxes. This one was unique—slender, antiquated. The bow of the key was shaped like a gear, the stem engraved with a faded crest: Gravemoor Trust. Nathan stilled.That name hadn’t