He drove through Harmonfield’s rain-slicked streets, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Sarah sat beside him, silent but alert, the glow of passing headlights streaking across her face. He didn’t speak. Not about Ryan. Not about the Shadow Council’s threat. Not even about the underground auction. Instead, he pulled into the back lot of a condemned building on Church Lane—Harmonfield’s oldest surviving structure. Sarah looked up at the crooked silhouette through the windshield. “This place is a museum,” she said quietly. “Or it was.” Jack turned off the engine. “Old Joe said some things didn’t belong in plain sight.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out the Dragon Dagger. It looked like a piece of ornate junk. Black steel with crimson etchings. The hilt felt warm. Familiar. But since Joe gave it to him, he hadn’t done more than store it in the safe. Tonight, something tugged at him. He stepped out of the car. Sarah followed. “What are we looking for?”

The early morning sky over Harmonfield was gray and restless, like the city itself. Rain hadn’t fallen yet, but the air was heavy, ripe with the scent of wet concrete and tension.Inside a rusted sedan parked outside an abandoned warehouse, Jack Parker sat in the passenger seat, face lit by the glow of Sarah’s laptop. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, screens flickering with public feeds, security logs, and encrypted files they had no business accessing.“The story’s already viral,” she murmured, eyes fixed. “The footage of you attacking Ryan’s circulating everywhere. Hashtag ParkerGonePsycho is trending.”Jack didn’t flinch. “How fast did the Brooks PR machine move?”“Faster than I’ve seen in years.” She glanced sideways. “They launched the campaign while we were still underground.”“Meaning this wasn’t a reaction. It was planned.”Sarah clicked a tab. “There’s more. Emily’s already done two press interviews. Saying she always ‘had concerns’ about your mental stability. She’s cry

The engine hummed as Sarah took a hard left, the city lights flickering across the windshield.Jack’s mind was a storm.Vincent. Alive. Back. And worse—twisted.“He had footage,” Jack muttered. “He’s been watching us for months. Maybe longer.”Sarah’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “He’s not just watching. He’s building a narrative.”Jack exhaled sharply. “He wants to make me the villain.”Sarah glanced at him. “Then we show them who the real one is.”They didn’t go home.They went underground.A vault Sarah once helped an anonymous hacker group build beneath an old train station—forgotten, secure, and lined with enough tech to fake a moon landing.By 2 a.m., every screen in the bunker glowed with files, videos, emails. Sarah’s fingers flew over the keyboard, pulling up encrypted data.Jack paced. “He said I framed him. That I orchestrated Joe’s death. What if Ryan and Emily believe him?”Sarah’s eyes flicked up. “Then we give them a reason not to.”Within minutes, Sarah hac

Sarah lingered on the rooftop after Jack disappeared down the stairwell, the city still glowing beneath the night sky. Her mind wasn’t quiet. It rarely was these days. Too many moving pieces. Too much betrayal. And somewhere deep down, she wondered if this win had come too easily.Meanwhile, Jack moved through the corridors of Thompson Tower with a heavy sense of purpose. The message on his phone still buzzed in the back of his mind like static.> You only win the battle, Jack. The war still breathes.He didn’t recognize the number. No ID. Just a chill that had settled into his bones.When he reached the lobby, the last thing he expected was to see her waiting there.Emily Wilson.Standing by the massive glass doors, coat drawn tight around her body, a conflicted look on her face that made him slow his steps.She noticed him and gave a hesitant smile. “Jack.”He didn’t return it. “What are you doing here?”“I needed to talk to you. Alone.”Jack’s jaw tensed. “Bold of you to show up wi

Smoke still clung to the air like the memory of a war just fought. Jack stood in the lab’s wreckage, staring at the sealed corridor where Vincent had vanished. His fists clenched at his sides.Emily sat quietly on a steel bench, wrists cuffed now, a medic checking a wound on her temple. William tapped through the stolen data on his tablet, muttering under his breath. Law enforcement moved with mechanical efficiency—bagging evidence, questioning mercenaries, securing the area.Jack hadn’t said a word since Vincent disappeared.Finally, William looked up. “You okay?”Jack gave a bitter chuckle. “Define ‘okay.’”“Alive, breathing, still mad at the world?”“That last one especially.”William nodded. “Then yeah. You're okay.”Jack turned his attention to Emily. She flinched when their eyes met.“You still in?” he asked, voice low.She nodded. “You know I am.”“No,” Jack said firmly. “I don’t know. I’ve stopped assuming who people are.”Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she lower