Jackson’s phone buzzed just as he was fastening the last button of his jacket as he prepared to meet the shareholders for the end of month business meeting.But the moment he glimpsed the caller ID from the hospital, the whole rhythm of his boardroom day fractured like brittle glass under a hammer.His thumb hit accept on reflex. He barely had time to steady his breath before the doctor's voice crackled through.“Mr. Hart. It’s about Yvonne Tween. She’s awake.” The doctor said all in one breath.It was as if the floor under him dropped a few inches. The name hit him harder than he’d expected. Yvonne, whose limp hand he’d checked too many times under the cold hum of monitors that never changed tune. Yvonne, whose coma had become the silent excuse for questions he couldn’t yet answer.For a moment, the room around him faded into a dull blur.He forced steel into his voice.“Keep her stable,” he ordered. “Tell your nurses not to move her without my say. I’m coming.”He didn’t wait for th

Emily sat on the edge of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. The call tone droned on, mocking her, echoing off her bedroom walls that felt too big, too cold tonight.Tyler’s name glowed on the screen for the fifteenth time that evening — but there was still no answer. No reply to her texts either. Each attempt rang out until it went to voicemail, and then the line went dead again, leaving her staring at her own reflection in the black mirror of her phone screen.“Come on, Tyler… pick up,” she whispered, her voice cracking with equal parts anger and worry. She hated how desperate she sounded. After their argument, she had told herself she wouldn’t be the first to bend. But here she was, calling, hoping, dialing again and again.When the line failed her one more time, she closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath that tasted like defeat. She scrolled down her contacts list and paused on Jonah’s name. It felt wrong to drag him into this — not after t

Jackson stalked the far end of the Sky Tower’s private war room like a tiger that couldn’t find its cage. The sprawling windows framed a city that glittered with false calm below, each pinprick of light mocking him with its obliviousness.Inside, the hush wasn’t peace. Instead, it was the quiet choke of dread winding itself tighter around his chest. No matter how many times he had tried to convince himself that nothing bad will happen to Bella, the fear of the unknown still tugged at the back of his mind that he just couldn't help but wish he could do something about the situation on ground.Just then, the double doors swung open with a muted groan as Mr. Copper entered, a thick coat draped over one arm. He paused just inside the threshold, taking in the restless shape of Jackson pacing the room’s length. The secure conference monitors on the far wall blinked idle alerts — pale green warnings that looked harmless compared to the storm simmering behind Jackson’s eyes.Jackson didn’t tu

Evans Tony hated early calls, but this one dragged him from his desk at the agency’s western wing just as the sun was beginning to wrestle the capital’s skyline out of sleep. The corridors of the CIA annex were still half-lit with security lights humming against glass and steel as Evans pushed through the door that led to Mr. Whitaker's office.He found Whitaker waiting at the far end of the room, back to him, hands folded behind his back, staring at a tactical map projected on the frosted wall.The Director didn’t bother to turn when Evans closed the door behind him with a soft click.“Director,” Evans said, voice careful. “You called for me.”Whitaker’s eyes flicked to him in the reflection of the glass tired eyes, old eyes, but sharp as broken glass. He pivoted, the slow turn of a man who’d carried a kingdom’s worth of secrets too long to flinch at another one."I guess you've been up to date with what is happening with Jackson Hart?" Mr. Whitaker asked."Not at all Sir," Evans rep

The old parking structure just off East Orlin Street was a far cry from the bright glass corridors of Sky Tower. Flickering fluorescent bulbs cast trembling shadows across cracked concrete pillars. The city’s hum felt distant here — like a world holding its breath.Jackson leaned against the hood of his car, his coat drawn tight against the biting wind. His mind buzzed with the anonymous caller's threats, Bella’s absence, and the burn of the Flameborn deep in his chest — a heartbeat that refused to settle.Footsteps echoed through the structure. Jackson looked up to see Evans striding out of the gloom, collar turned up, eyes scanning the empty levels behind him before settling on Jackson.“Evans.” Jackson straightened, his voice low but tense. “What have you got?”Evans came to a stop in front of him, dropping his satchel on the hood with a dull thud. He looked tired — more worn than Jackson had ever seen him — but there was steel in his eyes that hadn’t dulled one bit.“Director Whit