His eyes narrowed, body tensed, as the man remained rigid, silence stretching like steel wire between them. Behind him, Maria pressed close, her hand lingering on his shoulder—steadying, grounding him—but he didn’t waver. His chest rose and fell sharply, every breath a controlled storm. The junior officers moved swiftly, their movements precise and professional. One knelt beside the man, snapping handcuffs over his wrists with mechanical efficiency. Another secured the gun at his side, sliding it into a secure pouch. The man’s colleague—shot in the leg—finally collapsed fully. Blood pooled beneath him, mixing with oil and seawater runoff. The officers stepped back, rifles trained outward, ensuring no further movement. Medics swarmed in, working efficiently, murmuring reassurances while dragging the wounded man toward the waiting ambulance. The harsh smell of smoke, charred wood, and burning metal hung thick in the air, stinging Lewis’s nostrils. He stepped closer, fury coil

Minutes later, another Tahoe appeared, rolling silently onto Kings Highway, headlights cutting through the smoky orange glow of the burning tires. Two junior officers sat inside, scanning the scene with high-tech devices, their hands steady on advanced weaponry. The senior officer gestured sharply. “Spread out. Eyes everywhere.” Lewis and Maria moved carefully, keeping low behind the first Tahoe, their bodies taut and alert. The handcuffed man was dragged forcefully across the pavement, his knees scraping lightly as two junior officers guided him into the new vehicle. Lewis’s gaze flicked across the road. “Check every angle. He’s not gone yet.” The junior officers swept the area with thermal scanners and motion detectors, devices humming faintly, but nothing registered. Still, their fingers stayed near triggers, eyes scanning the shadows with unbroken intensity. Lewis climbed into the new Tahoe, with Maria right behind him. The handcuffed man was shoved into the b

Noah’s faint smirk faded as the ADA leaned forward, her voice dropping just enough to sharpen the threat beneath it. “Mr. Hunt,” she said evenly, “you’ve been warned. Continued refusal to disclose the whereabouts of Samuel Gordon will be interpreted as deliberate obstruction. That carries consequences you will not like. This is your final opportunity to cooperate.” Lewis felt something hot and violent surge up his spine. For half a second, his hands clenched, muscles tightening as he took a step forward before catching himself. His jaw locked, teeth grinding as he forced the instinct down. This wasn’t the street. This wasn’t chaos. This was the procedure. Maria shifted beside him, her hand tightening around his forearm—not restraining him, just anchoring him. Lewis inhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, eyes never leaving Noah. Noah swallowed. The sound was loud in the quiet room. His shoulders sagged as if a weight had finally crushed whatever resistance h

WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!! The sudden, guttural barking tore through the quiet morning like shattered glass. Lewis jolted awake, breath hitching as his eyes snapped open. Sunlight had crept into the room, thin golden rays slipping through the tall window slats and stretching across the carpet, dust motes drifting lazily in the glow. His head throbbed faintly, the remnants of deep, unguarded sleep still clinging to him. Another bark echoed—closer this time. WOOF! WOOF! He pushed himself upright, palms pressing into the mattress. His chest rose and fell as memory rushed back in a single, sharp wave. The unfinished business with Samuel. His gaze flicked to the small clock on the bedside table. The second hand ticked steadily, mocking in its calm. Lewis exhaled under his breath. “Damn. It's almost seven.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, muscles stiff but responsive. The room still smelled of clean linen and old books, unchanged—too calm for what waite

The darkness inside the old operations building was thick and cold. Every step echoed faintly, a hollow sound that made the air feel heavier. The officers advanced in formation, their flashlights cutting pale beams through the gloom. “Thermal scanners up,” ordered the senior officer in command. His voice carried calm authority, measured and professional. Two junior officers raised compact scanners from their vests—sleek, tablet-sized devices that pulsed faint blue light. The digital grids flickered, scanning the rooms and broken walls. “No heat signatures,” one junior officer muttered. “Negative movement,” added another. Lewis frowned, sweeping his gaze across the dust-streaked floor. “You’re sure?” “Affirmative, sir,” said the senior officer. “Not a trace of life in this entire level.” They moved deeper. The air smelled of rust, wet concrete, and something stale—like burnt tobacco and mold. Empty shelves lined the walls. Torn maps flapped loosely from nails.