Tobias smiled, teeth red. “Let’s say a friend of mine prepared something special. Documents. Transfers. Videos. The ledgers that trace every fake charity, every gold deal you’ve laundered through your so-called foundation.”A bead of sweat slid down Delgado’s temple.“Lies.”“Then pull the trigger,” Tobias said. “And watch the lies become headlines.”Tobias’s tone hardened, his grin faded into something colder.“You really thought the fire ended it, didn’t you?” he said, taking a slow step forward. “That night when your men broke into the evidence room, when the officers you bribed poured gasoline on the files and danced around the flames like it was some holy cleansing.”Delgado’s jaw tightened, his finger twitching near the trigger.“I was there,” Tobias continued, his voice cutting through the air. “Not close enough to stop them, but close enough to record every second. You wanted to erase your sins, but I made sure the ashes remembered.”Delgado swallowed hard, his throat moving v

Fifteen minutes later, the parish came into view — a modest structure of red bricks and stained glass framed by palm trees. The bell tower cast a long shadow over the parking lot.Tobias parked, stepped out, and inhaled deeply. The air smelled of incense and old prayers.As he crossed the courtyard, a nun greeted him politely. He nodded and went straight to the chapel doors. Inside, candles flickered beside a statue of the Virgin Mary, and soft hymns drifted from hidden speakers.He approached the altar and spoke quietly to an assistant. “I’d like to see Father Romeo. For confession.”The young man nodded. “Please wait here.”Moments later, a door creaked open near the sacristy, and Father Romeo stepped out.He looked older. The once-dark hair had silvered, his face was lined with exhaustion. But what caught Tobias off guard was his expression — not surprise, not joy — but something that looked a lot like fear.“Father,” Tobias said softly.The priest nodded, his voice muted. “Follow

The air inside the chapel felt heavier now, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. The silence after the van’s departure didn’t bring peace — it brought the kind of quiet that comes before lightning strikes.Father Romeo stood frozen in the doorway, one hand clutching the wooden frame for balance. His prayer book lay in the dust, pages fluttering under the lazy spin of the ceiling fan. Tobias walked closer, boots echoing across the cracked marble floor.“Sit,” Tobias said quietly.The priest sank into the nearest pew, his face was pale and broken. A thin trail of blood ran from the corner of his lip to his chin. His hands shook as he reached for his rosary.Tobias crouched in front of him. “Who were those men?”Father Romeo swallowed hard, his voice was barely above a whisper. “People I never should’ve known.”Tobias’s gaze darkened. “They didn’t look like people who just drop by for prayer.”The priest closed his eyes, trembling. “They… came because of my daughter.”Tob

The music inside Club Azul hit like thunder — a deep, dirty bass shaking the red lights that blinked over the dancers. Smoke rolled thick across the room, crawling between tables and half-empty bottles. The air smelled of cheap perfume, whiskey, and desperation.Tobias sat alone in a corner booth, half-shadowed by the crimson glow of a neon sign that read “Heaven’s Edge.” The irony wasn’t lost on him. He swirled his drink, eyes cold, steady, and fixed on the VIP lounge at the far end of the room.He didn’t come here for the show. He came to hunt.From his seat, Tobias watched Luis — the same name the priest had whispered with fear. Luis sat comfortably in the VIP area, cigarette in hand, laughing with a plump middle-aged man who looked to be in his late fifties. The man’s gold watch flashed with every flick of his hand. Around them were three women — all young, all dressed in clothes that weren’t meant for comfort, and all wearing the same dead expression behind painted smiles.But on

The rain didn’t stop.It came harder now, thick and merciless, drumming against the windshield of the van as it tore through the night. The streets of Ciudad de Sanvelis gleamed like broken glass, every puddle reflecting the blur of neon lights. Inside the van, the air was heavy — the kind of air that made lungs ache.Luis sat in the passenger seat, one hand dangling out of the window, a cigarette clamped between his teeth. His grin looked painted on, stretched too tight over his face.“Man of God my ass,” he muttered, blowing out smoke. “Should’ve put that clown down when I had the chance.”His men laughed from the back. Three of them — thick-necked, jittery, their eyes darting between the rain and the three young women huddled in silence. The girls’ wrists were tied with rope, their faces pale under the flicker of passing streetlights. The priest’s daughter sat closest to the window, watching the city smear by like a fever dream.“Boss,” one of the men said, “that preacher’s eyes… t