The Night Vipers’ next meeting carried an unusual tension even before it began. Word had already spread quietly through the network that Sophia was absent. Not late. Not delayed. Absent entirely. And in a group like theirs, absence was never neutral. It always meant something had shifted, something had broken in ways that were not yet fully visible but would soon demand attention. Ava arrived earlier than usual. Her expression was controlled, but her mind was already made up. There was no visible hesitation in her movements as she entered the hall, no uncertainty in her posture. She took her seat without greeting anyone more than necessary, sitting upright, gaze fixed forward as though refusing to acknowledge any distraction around her. One by one, the members filled the hall. Low conversations started and stopped in controlled bursts. Eyes drifted, then refocused. Subtle glances were exchanged, most of them flickering toward Sophia’s usual seat. Which remained empty. No exp

The Sullivan mansion was draped in mourning. Black cloth hung over parts of the entrance, softening the grandeur of the building into something subdued and sorrowful. Inside, the usual warmth of the home had been replaced by heavy silence broken only by low murmurs and the occasional sound of footsteps on polished floors. Family members and in-laws filled every available space, seated in clusters that reflected shared grief, confusion, and disbelief. Ava’s absence was not just felt—it was everywhere. It lingered in the empty spaces between conversations, in the pauses that stretched too long, and in the way people kept glancing toward the doorway as if expecting her to walk in at any moment. But she did not. Jolene sat at the center of it all, still and quiet. Her posture remained composed, but her face told a different story. Her eyes were red from earlier tears, though they were dry now, as if her body had already exhausted its ability to cry. Around her, relatives spoke in hush

The next morning arrived without ceremony.No sudden alarms. No public disturbance. No visible shift in the city’s rhythm.But beneath that surface calm, everything had already started to move.Logan stood in front of a larger projection than before.Multiple feeds. Multiple routes. Multiple outcomes layered over each other like transparent maps.Charlotte watched from a distance, silent, observant.She had stopped asking what he was doing every hour.Because she had begun to understand something unsettling.He wasn’t improvising anymore.He was orchestrating.“They accepted the bait,” Logan said quietly.Charlotte stepped closer.“Which one?” she asked.Logan pointed at the screen.A single route lit up in faint blue.“Exactly the one I wanted them to see.”Charlotte frowned slightly.“You’re sure they’ll take it?”Logan didn’t answer immediately.Then—“They already have.”A pause.Charlotte’s voice lowered.“And what happens when they arrive there?”Logan’s expression didn’t change

For a split second, nothing happened.No explosions. No sudden ambush. No chaos.Just silence.That silence was the first sign something was wrong.Inside the structure, Logan stood unmoving at the center, Charlotte just behind him. His eyes were fixed ahead—not searching, not reacting.Waiting.Then—A faint mechanical hum.Charlotte felt it before she heard it properly.A vibration under her feet.“What is that…?” she whispered.Logan didn’t turn.“It’s the perimeter closing,” he said calmly.Outside—The Night Vipers’ units had already spread across entry points.Sophia moved forward with confidence, signaling her team to advance.“Clear the interior,” she ordered.But then—One of the operatives paused.“Wait… something’s off.”Before anyone could respond—Every exit point sealed.Metal barriers dropped instantly, locking the structure from all sides.“What—?!” Sophia spun around.Ava’s voice came through sharply over comms.“Do not move further in!”Too late.The internal layout

The man did not waste a single hour.By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the city, he had already activated contacts that most people didn’t even know existed—networks buried beneath layers of influence, connections that operated in silence, far from public view. His name was Victor Sullivan—one of the more calculated minds in the family, known not for loud anger or emotional reactions, but for precision, patience, and quiet execution.And right now, he carried the full weight of the Sullivan family’s expectation.Inside his car, parked in a discreet location away from unnecessary attention, Victor’s phone buzzed continuously. The device barely had time to rest between calls. Each vibration represented a new lead, a new connection, or a response to the orders he had already set into motion.He answered one call after another, his movements efficient, his tone controlled.“I need everything you have on Logan Brooks,” he said into one line, hi