Zarek’s hand tightened on the Director’s collar, the fine gold thread of his tuxedo sleeve shimmering in sharp contrast against the man’s clinical white lab coat."I don't have to tell you anything," Vance wheezed, his voice trembling but defiant. "The Board... they have contingencies. You’re a dead man, Zarek. You and this golden tomb you’ve built."Zarek’s expression didn't change; it remained a mask of predatory calm. "You think this is about what you want to do? You think I’m asking for a favor?"He leaned in, his green eyes burning with a cold, sickly light. "I have a place in this house, Vance. A place where men like you find their tongues. You’re going to agree to speak, or you’re going to pray for the Sentinels to find you before I’m done."Zarek didn’t wait for a response. He hauled the Director from the reinforced chair and dragged him toward a seamless dark panel in the floor. With a haptic pulse from Zarek’s palm, the floor spiraled open, revealing a stairwell that des

Robert began to laugh, a dry, hacking sound that rattled his hollow chest before turning into a violent coughing fit. He collapsed back onto his knees, gasping for air, but his eyes remained fixed on Vance with malicious glee."Look at him sweat, Zarek! Look at the 'Great Director' of the Orchard, reduced to a common storyteller. He knows as much about your brother as the rats in the walls do!"Silence reclaimed the basement, heavier than before. Vance froze, his breath hitching in his throat. The excruciatingly detailed world he had just built, the Vesper Cell, the underwater facility, the man named Kaelen, crumbled under the weight of Robert’s accusation.Vance slowly turned to look at Zarek. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. He looked for a spark of doubt in the Riggs heir, a sign that the lie had taken root, but he found only a void.Zarek slowly tilted the water bottle. He didn't pour it; he simply watched the liquid slosh against the plastic, the clear bead

Zarek looked at the boy’s small fingers, then back at his own hands, which were still stained with the phantom grime of the basement. Slowly, almost mechanically, he raised his hand. He mimicked the wave, his movements stiff and unpracticed.Then, reaching for a fragment of a memory from before the fire, he tried to do something he hadn't done since he was twelve years old. He tried to smile.The muscles in his face, hardened by years of military discipline and the cold requirements of vengeance, twitched into an expression intended to be warm. But on Zarek’s face, the result was a jagged, predatory baring of teeth, his eyes remaining as lethal as ever.The little boy’s eyes widened. His tiny wave stopped instantly. He looked at Zarek’s smile, let out a small, terrified gasp, and immediately buried his face into the crook of Yelena’s neck, turning away as if he’d just seen a monster in the dark.Zarek froze, his hand still in the air, his face still contorted in that jagged expre

Shaw’s combat instincts, honed in the dirtiest corners of the world, took over before his brain could process the threat. He didn't just duck; he threw his entire weight backward, his spine arching over the handle of the second cart.The blade, a curved, obsidian-coated kukri, missed his throat by a fraction of a millimeter. The man standing directly behind him wasn't so lucky. The bystander, a middle-aged man reaching for a magazine, never saw it coming. The steel sliced through the air like a hot wire through butter.SPLASH.A violent arc of crimson erupted, spraying across the white-tiled floor

CHAPTER 198In the darkness of the second cage, Director Vance was a ruin of a man. His white lab coat was a map of sweat and floor dust. He sat huddled in the corner, his stomach letting out a roar so visceral it seemed to rattle the bars."I had it in my hand," Vance wheezed, his voice cracking with a hysterical edge. "The Thai takeout. It was right there on my desk. Spicy basil beef.”“I didn't eat it because I wanted to finish the quarterly projections first. Now, I’d kill... I’d kill everyone in this room for a single grain of rice."From the adjacent cage, a low, wet laugh bubbled out of the shadows. Robert didn't move; he was nothing more than a pair of sunken, glinting eyes in the dark."Projections?" Robert croaked. "You were projecting the future while the past was coming to slit your throat, Vance. You pathetic pencil-pusher.""Shut up!" Vance screamed, lunging at the bars. "How was I supposed to know? How was anyone supposed to know there was a Riggs left alive? We were