The taxi pulled up at a dimly lit curb near the edge of Manhattan’s industrial district. Streetlights flickered unevenly, casting pale halos that barely touched the cracked pavement. Moses slid open the door, letting the chill night air hit his face. He adjusted the cap over his head, the hood of his hoodie slipping slightly, shielding him from immediate recognition.“Hey, you ever think about being my personal taxi?” the driver asked, leaning forward with a grin that Moses didn’t like one bit. “I could pick you up whenever—”Moses slammed the door sharply, the sound echoing through the empty street. The taxi’s side mirror rattled from the impact. Without a word, he turned and began walking past the vehicle, his hands slipping back into his pockets, his shoulders hunched slightly against the cold and the nervous energy humming through him.He glanced up at the nearby clock, stationed on a rusty iron post outside an abandoned-looking warehouse. Its neon digits glowed faintly.11:50 P

The silence that followed Moses’ last words was different from the ones before it. In the darkness, Moses could not see the slight tilt of Vincent’s head, nor the faint narrowing of his eyes behind the sleek, black goggle strapped across his face. The device hummed almost imperceptibly—a custom instrument engineered to drink in darkness and return clarity. Through its lenses, the room was washed in muted green light. Vincent leaned back in his chair, leather creaking softly beneath his weight. “Well,” he said at last, voice smooth and decisive, “that settles everything then.” Moses’ brows knit together immediately. He straightened slightly in the metal chair, fingers loosening from their rigid grip. “What does that mean?” he asked. Vincent crossed one leg over the other, still watching him through the night-vision lens. “In the coming days,” Vincent replied, “you will understand why.” A measured pause. “But for now,” he continued, “you should prepare yourself.” Mo

Ivy stepped fully into the lobby, the morning light briefly outlining her silhouette before the doors settled behind her. She moved with quiet assurance, heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. Her cream-colored dress fell smoothly against her figure, tailored but not excessive, elegant without effort. One hand held her sunglasses loosely; the other rested against the structured leather of her handbag. A second later, Derrick followed. He adjusted the cuff of his charcoal suit as he walked in, the movement habitual and precise. His posture was upright, shoulders squared, chin lifted—not arrogant, but conscious of presence. His gaze swept across the lobby once, quick and assessing. Both of them slowed almost imperceptibly when they noticed the tension at the reception desk. The receptionist stood unusually rigid. And opposite her stood a woman in a nurse’s uniform, spine straight, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her handbag. Curiosity flickered across Ivy’

Derrick's gaze drifted away from Ivy as she asked the question. Then he settled it somewhere on the far corner of the office as though the answer to the puzzle was plainly written there. His jaw tightened slightly, and he lifted a hand absentmindedly and rubbed his moustache. The gesture was brief and thoughtful. Just a moment later, his hand slipped into his pocket and brought out his phone. "She believed we could actually do something about Moses," Ivy continued, now pacing slowly behind the desk. "Yet she practically begged us not to involve the cops. What sort of logic is that?" Derrick still gave no reply. His thumbs were already moving across the screen as he sent a message to Dominic. 'Hey Dom. See if you can trail Moses Lorenzo's latest movements. Hack a GPS tracker, check his transactions, cameras–anything you can dig up about him. It's urgent.'Derrick got a quick reply. 'I'm afraid that'll take a while, sir.'Derrick's eyes narrowed as he read this. But another messag

Moses' hair was disheveled, his chest rising and falling as if he had run all the way from the street. He didn't even glance in their direction as he rushed straight to the reception desk."Where is she?!" he demanded breathlessly. The receptionist blinked in confusion, already alarmed. "Sir, please–" "Vivian!" Moses cut in sharply, his voice rising and trembling with panic. "Where is Vivian?! They–they just brought her in. Tell me the ward. ICU?!" His voice rose so fast and violently that the receptionist instinctively stepped back from the desk. "Sir, please calm down!" "Tell me where she is now!" Moses shouted. The desperation in his eyes was really terrifying. The receptionist's hand instantly reached for the phone beside her. "Security!" she cried out. But the scream wasn't loud enough to draw immediate attention, and Moses had already moved. He turned abruptly and dashed past Ivy and Derrick without sparing them as much as a glance. As he ran, his shoulders even brush