.The man had disappeared when the police properly arrived. Connections. Bribes. Influence. He walked away a free man.And now—Fate had brought him right back to him.Now he was standing across the street, adjusting his gloves calmly as if he were attending a normal social event.Johnny felt something dark settle in his chest.The man turned slightly, speaking to the driver.Then he looked up.Their eyes did not meet.But Johnny felt it.A chill.The man began walking toward the side entrance of the venue.Unbothered.Untouched.Like he belonged there.Johnny’s breath slowed.Why here?Why tonight?Was this random?No.Men like Valentine did nothing randomly.Johnny took a slow step forward, blending into the shadow near a lighting stand.Valentine reached the side entrance. A security guard nodded respectfully and stepped aside.Respectfully.Of course.Johnny’s eyes narrowed.That meant access.That meant connections inside.Inside the same building Margaret had just entered.His c

Valentine paused at the corner of the hallway. And smiled. It was small. Controlled. Almost lazy. The kind of smile a man gives when he knows he has planted a seed. The applause from the main hall rolled down the corridor in waves. Someone must have finished performing. The sound bounced against the walls and faded into the softer lighting of the restricted wing. He adjusted the cuff of his coat slowly. Margaret’s face lingered in his mind. Confused. Polite. Slightly unsure. Perfect. He did not need her to agree tonight. He did not need her to understand. Curiosity was enough. A business card was enough. People like her always looked things up later. They always asked questions in private. And once curiosity starts, it grows. His men followed a few steps behind him. Silent. Waiting. Valentine kept walking. He did not rush. He never rushed. Valentine Olov did not enjoy leaving his office. Before, he had people for that. Men who moved quietly. Men who unders

He had faced guns.He had ordered executions.He had watched people beg.But this felt different.This was personal.John’s face showed no anger.No rush.Just composure.That scared him more.“But that can wait,” John added casually. “I have some more pressing matters to discuss with you.”Valentine exhaled slowly without realizing he had been holding his breath.Of course.If he wanted him dead, he would have done it already.He would not have dragged him here.“What do you want?” Valentine asked, forcing some strength back into his voice.John spun the blunt knife once in his hand.The motion was almost playful.Then—Without warning—He drove it straight into Valentine’s thigh.The blade tore through fabric first.Then skin.The pain came half a second later.White-hot.Blinding.“AHHHHHHHH!” Valentine screamed.His entire body jerked against the ropes. The chair rocked violently.John didn’t flinch.“I want answers,” he said calmly.His grip remained firm as the dull blade sank de

The room felt silent except for the faint dripping sound of blood hitting the floor. Valentine let out a broken sound. The knife was blunt. That was the worst part. A sharp blade would be quick. This would be slow. Grinding. Tearing. “Please,” Valentine whispered. “Please don’t do this.” Johnny’s eyes didn’t change. “You traffic people,” he said quietly. “You destroy families. You treat human beings like numbers.” He leaned closer. “And you expect mercy?” Valentine’s lips trembled. Johnny wasn’t doing this for pleasure. That was clear. He was doing it because he believed he had to. Because somewhere out there, there were cages. And men who funded them. Valentine’s stomach turned. He suddenly realized something. The knife was blunt on purpose. It wasn’t an accident. Johnny could have taken a sharper blade from the kitchen drawer. There had been options. Cleaner ones. Quieter ones. But he didn’t. A sharp knife ends things quickly. A blu

Johnny pressed his back against the cracked kitchen cabinet, chest rising fast, ears ringing from the last shot.Dust floated in the air like smoke.Another bullet tore through the far wall and punched into the sink, metal bending inward with a violent clang.He didn’t move.Didn’t dare.His heart was still racing from the last hit. His shoulder had healed. His neck had closed. His ribs were solid again.But the fear?That lingered.“Vixen,” he breathed, voice low and strained. “I know we are not exactly on good terms. But I’m also sure neither you nor the System would enjoy watching me die. So what the hell is happening?”Silence.Another shot cracked through the building, this one scraping the edge of the counter above his head. Concrete dust rained into his hair.He clenched his jaw.“I thought I was invisible,” he snapped. “How can he see me?”There was a faint shift in his mind — that cold, digital presence sliding into place.There was a brief pause.Then her calm voice answered