The morning after Haven Trust fell was strangely quiet. Milwaukee’s skyline gleamed under a thin mist, as if the city was pretending nothing had happened. But underneath that calm, everything trembled. Phones buzzed in secret boardrooms. Politicians whispered behind closed doors. And somewhere between those whispers, Landon Hale’s name kept surfacing, sharp, unsettling, impossible to ignore.Inside Westhill Dynamics, the air was tense. Employees moved faster, talked softer. The new leadership was efficient, precise, and terrifyingly silent. No one quite understood what had changed, only that something, or someone, had taken control.On the twenty-seventh floor, Landon stood near the wide windows, watching the lake through the gray fog. He wore a black suit, no tie, sleeves rolled back just enough to make him look unbothered. Beside him, Claire scrolled through her tablet, her eyes flicking from report to report.“They’re calling it the Haven Collapse,” she said quietly. “The CEO’s

The storm broke before dawn, leaving the city wrapped in fog. The streets were slick and empty, steam rising from the gutters like quiet ghosts. From the penthouse balcony, Landon Hale watched the mist crawl between the buildings, softening the edges of Milwaukee’s skyline. He hadn’t slept.The map on the wall behind him still glowed faintly, a web of names and connections. But one name pulsed red, standing out like a heartbeat: Vivienne Holt.Claire entered quietly, holding two mugs of coffee. Her hair was pulled back, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. “You’ve been up all night,” she said, setting a mug beside him.“I couldn’t stop,” Landon replied. His voice was calm, but his hands were tight around the railing. “I traced one of the Syndicate’s routes through their shell accounts. It loops back here, to Westhill.”She frowned. “How? We cleaned everything.”“That’s what I thought.” He turned toward her, eyes dark. “But there’s another account, hidden under Vivienne’s signature. Transf

The fire burned for hours. By the time the sun rose over Lake Geneva, nothing was left of the Glasshouse but twisted steel and black water. The wind carried the smell of smoke all the way to the highway. Landon Hale stood on a ridge above the ruins, soaked to the skin, his coat heavy with rain. His face looked carved from stone, no anger, no fear, just a hollow stillness that scared Claire more than rage ever could.She stood beside him, arms crossed against the cold. “We should go,” she said softly. “Police will be here soon.”He didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the flames still licking at the shore. “She was alive, Claire. She was right there.”Claire hesitated. “You don’t know what they did to her. The Syndicate.”“She knew me,” he cut in, voice low and sharp. “She remembered things no one else could. The swing set in our yard. The scar on Dad’s hand. That wasn’t an impostor. That was my sister.”Claire’s heart sank. “Then she’s not the person you remember anymore.”Landon’s

The safe house was quiet, too quiet. Rain tapped gently against the metal roof, a soft rhythm that felt like a heartbeat, a timer counting down to the unknown. Landon sat cross-legged in front of his laptop, the Flame Node humming faintly beside him. Blue light reflected on his face, painting sharp shadows across his cheekbones. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly, not from fear, but from anticipation.Claire leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching him. “You really want to do this?” she asked, voice low but carrying an edge of concern. “Enter the system directly, ghost-walk through the Syndicate grids?”“Yes,” Landon said, his voice calm, steady. “Harrow isn’t hiding behind walls anymore. He’s hiding inside the network itself. If I want to catch him, I have to go where he thinks he’s safe.”Claire frowned. “And that’s,?”Landon tapped the node. The hum grew louder, and faint blue circuits traced across his skin. “Inside the system. Ghost-walking. I’ll

The safe house felt smaller tonight. Shadows stretched across the walls, long and dark, as if the corners themselves were holding their breath. Rain had returned, hammering against the windows with a dull, relentless rhythm. Landon sat at his workstation, hands hovering over the keyboard, eyes glued to the network feeds. Every light, every ripple of data, pulsed like a warning pulse directly into his chest. Claire stood behind him, her arms folded tight, watching him work. Her face was pale in the blue glow of the monitors. “Something’s different,” she said quietly. “You’ve been quiet for hours, and not the calm kind of quiet. The dangerous kind.”Landon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He had felt it before even seeing it: a signal, faint and trembling, yet unmistakable. Familiar. Almost human, and then, it arrived.The system interface blinked with a new alert, a direct channel from an unknown source. Landon leaned closer, his pulse quickening. The message was simple, almost pa