Michael's throat felt like sandpaper as Brother North settled into the rusted metal chair across from him, the screech of metal against concrete echoing through the warehouse. "You know what the funny thing is?" North said, his voice carrying that unsettling conversational tone that made Michael's skin crawl. "I actually started to like you. The Consigliere with the quick mouth and wits." He leaned forward, studying Michael's face. "You remind me of an old friend of mine, young and too smart for his own good." "What happened to your friend?" Michael asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. North's expression darkened. "He got shot trying to negotiate with people who don't negotiate. That's the problem with smart guys like you—you think everything can be solved with words." "Sometimes it can," Michael said carefully. "Sometimes," North agreed. "But sometimes, people just need to understand that actions have consequences." He stood up and began pacing, his energy building. "Do

Michael's legs felt like jelly as he and Alexis walked out of the abandoned restaurant. The cool evening air hit his face, and he realized he'd been holding his breath for what felt like hours. Behind them, the sound of chairs scraping and voices faded into the distance. "Jesus Christ," Michael muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe that actually worked." Alexis walked beside him, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement. She kept glancing back at the restaurant, as if expecting armed men to come running after them. "Your hands are shaking," she said, noticing his trembling fingers as he tried to light a cigarette. "Yeah, well, I just negotiated with two gang leaders who could have killed us both," Michael said. "I'm allowed to shake a little." They walked in silence for a few blocks, both processing what had just happened. The street lamps cast long shadows, and every sound made Michael's head snap around. A car door slamming. A dog barking. The dis

The coordinated attack launched at exactly 3:47 PM on a Tuesday afternoon. Michael watched from his laptop as the first domino fell."Article is live," Zara announced, her fingers flying across her keyboard. "Four major companies just posted it on their platforms." "Evidence has been deployed across all major platforms. The bot farm markers are now visible to any analyst who knows where to look," Ava reported.Michael refreshed his browser and watched the chaos unfold. The headline blazed across the screen: "SOCIAL MEDIA EMPIRE BUILT ON LIES: Inside the Medici Twins' Massive Bot Farm Operation.""Holy shit," he breathed, scrolling through the article. "Zara, this is devastating.""That's the point. I've been investigating Victoria for months so we're just lucky she was using the twins to do her dirty work. Let's finish with the twins, and then Victoria is next. This is just the beginning," she replied, not looking up from her screen. The article laid out everything in meticulous

The safe house smelled like stale coffee and desperation. Michael sat hunched on the couch, staring at his untouched sandwich while the television droned in the background. Three days had passed since their escape from the hotel, and he hadn’t slept more than two hours at a stretch.“You need to eat something. Starving yourself won’t bring her back,” Alexis said from the kitchen. Michael didn’t respond. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ava’s face as she collapsed, her systems failing after the final EMP pulse. Suddenly a notification popped up on his phone. His eyes widened as he recognized it: the message was from the same unknown number that had contacted him weeks ago about fixing Ava, the one that had vanished after the warehouse incident. Michael’s chest tightened as he read:"How the hell did you leave her behind with Wagner? You just ABANDONED her."“Son of a witch,” he muttered, grabbing the phone and dialing the number with trembling fingers.It rang three times. Then

The "training area" was a cleared section of warehouse floor with some old gym equipment that looked like it had seen better years. A heavy bag hung from a chain that creaked loudly, and there were free weights scattered around that were covered in rust and what Michael hoped was just old sweat."Strip down to your t-shirt," North commanded, pulling off his own jacket to reveal arms that looked like tree trunks. "And those fancy shoes have got to go. You're gonna need to feel the ground."Michael complied, suddenly feeling very exposedg took of his jacket and shoes."First lesson," North said, moving to the center of the area. "Fighting isn't about being angry. Anger makes you stupid. Fighting is about being calm while doing violence.""That sounds like a contradiction," Michael said."Everything about fighting is a contradiction. You stay relaxed while being aggressive. You defend by attacking. You win by accepting you might lose." North gestured for Michael to join him. "Put your ha