The Net TightensThe night air pressed heavy, smoke and dust lingering from the narrow escape. Ethan’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel, his jaw tight. Clara sat beside him, silent, replaying the ambush in her mind.“That wasn’t random, Ethan. He knew where we’d be. Someone told him.” Clara said “I know.” Ethan said (voice clipped, eyes on the road) “The trail wasn’t clean. Kane wanted us to follow it.”Clara turned toward him, anger trembling beneath her words. “Then why didn’t you stop? You dragged us straight into his hands!”slamming his palm against the steering wheel he answered “Because if I didn’t take that lead, we’d have nothing! He’s been one step ahead from the start.”The SUV jolted over a pothole, the echo of distant sirens trailing them. Clara crossed her arms, trying to steady herself.“And now? Where does that leave us? Surrounded by ghosts, Ethan. And secrets you still won’t tell me.”Her words struck. He looked at her, then back to the road, silent.Ka

On the verge of AshesClara replied. “Then don’t do it alone. Tell me what you see.”Ethan’s eyes flicked to hers. For a moment, everything fell away—the beeping, kanes’s laughter, the creeping weight of death. Only her. She wasn’t flinching, not anymore “Okay—look. The red is a false loop, I was right about that. The green was the main trigger, but he booby-trapped it. Which means—”“The blue?”clara pointed Ethan replied “Maybe. But kane knows I’d guess that. Which means…”He trailed off, his jaw tightening. His brain worked like a machine, pulling pieces from memory, training, instincts sharpened in war zones. Kane wasn’t just playing—he was taunting.00:15.Kane’s voice slithered back.“Tick-tock, soldier boy. Will you save her, or let her burn? Funny—reminds me of Sarajevo. You remember that fire? That woman screaming?”Ethan froze, every muscle in his body seizing. Clara’s eyes widened. “What is he talking about?”Ethan gritting his teeth.“Shut your mouth Kane!”“Ah, so she does

Fractures and ConfessionsThe night was unnaturally quiet after the chaos. It was the kind of silence that made every heartbeat sound too loud, every breath too sharp. The safe house smelled faintly of smoke from their clothes and antiseptic from the kit Ethan had pulled out minutes after they’d stumbled inside.Clara sat on the sofa, trembling fingers pressed to the locket that had nearly been blown away with her. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she tried to steady herself, but her eyes betrayed her—shining, restless, too full of fear.Across the room, Ethan lowered himself into a chair with a wince. His ankle was swelling beneath his weight, a dark bruise forming at the joint where he had twisted it dragging Clara clear of the second blast. He tried to mask the pain, but Clara caught the subtle hitch in his breath.“Ethan,” she whispered, breaking the quiet. “Your ankle…”“I’ve had worse.” His voice was steady, but his jaw tightened as he tried to adjust the bandage himself.Cla

Shadows WithinThe safehouse was quiet, too quiet. The storm from the night before had passed, but its residue lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. Ethan sat at the head of the long oak table in the briefing room, his ankle still stiff from the bomb trap ordeal, though he refused to let it show. The bandage Clara had wrapped around him was hidden neatly beneath his tailored black trousers. His composure was intact, his sharp suit uncreased, but his eyes told a different story. They were cold, piercing, restless like a predator cornered yet still dangerous.Clara sat two chairs away from him, hands folded tightly in her lap. She’d insisted on being there, despite Ethan’s suggestion she should rest after the chaos of the past days. She knew better than to leave him alone in this moment. The hunt for the mole had begun, and she could feel the storm in Ethan shifting from external threats to the people closest to him.One by one, Ethan’s top circle filed into the room. Six men and

The Name in the DarkThe air in Ethan Sterling’s study was heavier than iron. The curtains had been drawn tight against the night, leaving only the amber glow of the chandelier to cast long, trembling shadows across the polished mahogany table. Clara sat in the corner, hands folded tightly in her lap, watching Ethan circle Marcus like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.The half-burnt letter lay flat on the desk, the edges charred and curling inward, Kane’s taunting words still legible.You’ll never be rid of me. I am already inside.Ethan pressed his palm against the letter, his voice a low thunder.“Explain this, Marcus. Explain how a letter written in Kane’s handwriting, got delivered not to my gates, not to the outer halls, but here, inside my study slipped through unnoticed. Explain how my home has become a messenger service for my enemy.”Marcus shifted uncomfortably in the leather chair, his fingers gripping the armrests until his knuckles turned white. Sweat slicked