All Chapters of Zero Logic: The Hunter Gambits: Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
12 chapters
Chapter 11. Interrogation at the Muzzle
Chapter 11: Interrogation at the Muzzle Oliver Warner knelt in a pooling slurry of rain and grit, his breath hitching like an old engine on the verge of detonation. Fresh blood trekked down his temple, mingling with the downpour that plastered his expensive shirt to his skin. It wasn't the biting chill of the rain that made Oliver’s teeth chatter. It was the muzzle of the silver Desert Eagle pressed firmly against the center of his forehead. The metal was cold, steady, and utterly merciless. The woman before him, Claire, stood as rigid as a monument to the grim reaper. Her black trench coat was sodden, her short hair slicked against her cheeks, but her gaze remained razor sharp. She had just saved his life from a feral vampire at the train station, but the way she brandished her weapon now suggested anything but a friendly greeting. "Three seconds." Claire’s voice was flat, nearly devoid of emotion, yet it pierced his ears more sharply than the distant thunder. "Gi
Chapter 12. The Kennel
“This place smells like a library that burned down and got pissed on by rats,” Oliver commented flatly. He tried to suppress the nausea, not because of the smell, his senses were dulled, but because the place looked like pure chaos. They were underground. More precisely, in a hidden bunker beneath The Rusty Spine, a used bookstore that had gone bankrupt three years ago on the outskirts of Vegas. The concrete walls were damp, plastered with demon-repelling talismans whose ink had bled into illegible smears. Exposed cables hung from the ceiling like spilled entrails, feeding a noisy generator that powered various pieces of illegal magical equipment. “Stop whining. You’re lucky I didn’t leave you in a gutter,” Claire shot back without looking at him. She was busy stirring something inside a stained laboratory beaker. The liquid was moss-green, bubbling, releasing sharp fumes that smelled like sulfur mixed with cheap gasoline. “Drink,” Claire ordered, shoving the beake