The Criminal DealBrandon Collins had always believed fear was a tool meant for other people.Boardrooms feared him. Assistants jumped when he spoke. Even his own father had learned, over the years, to stop interrupting when Brandon’s voice sharpened. Power had always bent toward him—money, influence, legacy. Or at least it used to.Tonight, fear sat in his gut like something alive.The elevator descended far below street level, the digital numbers above the door blinking down into negatives that didn’t officially exist on any building plan. Brandon loosened his tie for the third time, sweat dampening the collar of his expensive shirt. The suit—custom Italian, outrageously priced—felt like a costume here. Too clean. Too loud.The doors opened to concrete.Bare bulbs buzzed overhead, casting uneven light across a wide underground hall that smelled of oil, iron, and old water. Men stood in clusters, their silhouettes sharp against the shadows. No uniforms. No visible weapons. Which s

A Cracked Mask Emily POV The cut on Leon’s side looks worse in the bathroom light.It isn’t deep enough to be fatal—that much I can tell—but it’s ugly. Angry. A thin line of blood has soaked through the dark fabric of his shirt, spreading slowly like a secret he’s failed to hide.“You should’ve told me sooner,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended as I shut the door behind us.Leon doesn’t respond.He never does when I’m upset. He just stands there, silent, watching me the way he always does—as if he’s measuring not my anger, but how much of it I can carry before it breaks me.“I asked you if you were hurt,” I continued, already moving toward the cabinet under the sink. My hands are shaking as I pull out the first-aid kit. “You said you were fine.”“I am,” he says calmly.I shoot him a look. “You’re bleeding.”He shrugs out of his jacket with a wince so small I almost miss it. Almost. The shirt follows, peeled away carefully, revealing skin marked by old scars I don’t remember se

The Shadow MovesThe city never slept—but tonight, it flinched.Leon stood alone in the glass-walled command room beneath the city, the soft blue glow of monitors reflecting off his eyes. No suits. No aides. No ceremony. Just data streams, financial arteries, and the quiet hum of Shadowline waking fully.“Authorize countermeasures,” Leon said calmly.The AI responded without emotion, but with absolute obedience.SHADOWLINE ONLINE.COUNTERSTRIKE PROTOCOL: BLACK VEIL.TARGETS: CONFIRMED CRIMINAL NETWORKS.SCOPE: GLOBAL.Leon didn’t blink.Across continents, systems began to die.Accounts froze mid-transaction. Shell companies collapsed in seconds, their funds locked behind walls of encrypted compliance flags no human regulator could unravel in time. Offshore vaults flagged as terrorism-linked. Crypto wallets vaporized into legal limbo. Bribes scheduled for dawn never arrived.In a luxury penthouse in Prague, a crime broker screamed as his screens went red.In Macau, a financier smashed

KidnappedEmily’s POVThe first thing I notice is the silence.Not the peaceful kind—no, this is the kind that presses against your ears, thick and wrong, like the world has been muted on purpose. My head throbs dully, each pulse echoing behind my eyes. When I try to move, pain blooms sharp and immediate, shooting down my arms and into my wrists.Restraints.My breath stutters as awareness crashes into me all at once.I’m sitting on a cold metal chair, my wrists bound behind my back, ankles zip-tied to the legs. The floor beneath me is concrete, stained with oil and something darker I don’t want to think about. The air smells like rust, sweat, and old smoke. Somewhere nearby, machinery hums—low, steady, indifferent.I force my eyes open fully.The room is large and poorly lit, a warehouse maybe, or an abandoned factory. One bare bulb hangs from the ceiling, swaying slightly, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls. Crates are stacked haphazardly along one side, some marked wi

Blood in the DarkThe night swallowed sound.That was the first thing Emily noticed.No sirens.No shouting.No chaos the way movies promised.Just darkness—thick, deliberate, pressing in as the van screeched to a halt and the doors were yanked open.“Move!” someone barked.Hands dragged her down. Her knees hit concrete. The blindfold was ripped away, and harsh light burned her eyes. An abandoned industrial warehouse loomed around them, skeletal beams clawing at the sky. Men with guns fanned out, tense, nervous—too nervous.Emily’s heart hammered, but beneath the fear, something colder spread.They were afraid.Not of her.Of him.Then the lights went out.Not a blackout.A cut.Instant. Absolute.Panic erupted.“Power—!” “Check the perimeter!” “Where’s the feed?!”Emily’s breath caught as shadows moved—too fast, too quiet.The first shot came from nowhere.A muffled crack. A body dropped beside her, blood warm as it splattered her arm. She screamed—but the sound felt wrong, swallowe