The Meridian Club was the beating heart of Kingston’s old-money society, a place where names were made and lives were quietly dismantled over glasses of scotch. Tonight, the air was filled with people that pretended to have power. The elite of the city moved around the ballroom with no concern whatsoever, unaware that the foundation beneath their feet had changed hands that very morning.I stood in the lobby with Helen. We were dressed for the occasion, my usual black suit was tailored to my size perfectly, and Helen wore a simple, elegant black dress that drew every eye in the room. We looked like we belonged, not because we had been invited, but because we held the keys.Julian was also present and my eyes fished him out at once. He was hovering near Constance Albright’s table, leaning in to whisper something to her, his posture full of the desperate, eager energy of a man trying to convince a shark not to bite.When he saw me, his entire body went stiff and his face paled. The wine

I had to make sure that the estate became a fortress with the growing threat of Julian’s instability.Sloane doubled the guard rotation, and the air inside the house felt thick, like the pressure before a hurricane.Every entrance was logged, every vehicle was swept for trackers, and we vetted every staff member until they were practically screaming. Davis and I spent the night locking down our accounts, making sure Julian couldn’t hit us from the bank or the market. But the institutional war was over. This was much more different.In the little breaks between strategy sessions that we took, the house felt small. Helen and I moved through the hallways with a new awareness of each other. It wasn’t just that we were partners; we were the only things left in this world that mattered.During a security debrief at 2:00 AM, the library was freezing. We were both leaning over the table, staring at a stack of blueprints. My hand reached for the file on the east wing, and her hand moved at

Something happened that rocked everyone in Kingston who was on my side. At first, I didn't want to believe that Julian would actually go that far, but he did! He fucking hit the Gravel Yards!The blast at the construction site wasn’t some cinematic explosion you see in the movies. It was smaller, uglier, and far more personal. A device went off in the foreman’s office around 9:00 AM, tearing through the drywall and furniture like it was made of wet cardboard. It was designed to send a message, and the message was written in blood.My phone buzzed while I was staring at a map of the docks. I didn’t even check the name before answering because my instincts already told me who it was."The Gravel Yards site," Sloane said. His voice sounded like he’d been swallowing broken glass. "It’s been hit, Carter and Marcus Webb is down! He’s on a flight to the hospital now. It’s bad, boss…really bad."My heart sank to my stomach and I felt a cold chill running up my spine. This…this was real. Wha

We sat in the dark of the surveillance room for seventy-two long hours, our eyes glued to the monitors, while we watched Julian build the end of the world. The feed from the Port District was grainy, but the detail was actually pretty accurate. I could see that Julian wasn't rushing. He took his time planning it all out because he had the upper hand…for now.We watched him and his two associates bring in the materials for the bomb. We watched them strip the wiring, secure the charges, and sweat, and argue over the schematics. It was a slow, agonizing process that made goosebumps spread all over my skin. There was no tactical move to make and no way to interrupt him without it all going wrong. All we could do was just observe and the longer we did, the more I could feel the trust of the people around me fading slowly.During one of my shifts, I tapped out at 3:00 AM. The adrenaline had finally gotten to me, making my body ache exhaustion. I retreated to my room and was staring at the

Kingston was waking up, oblivious to the fact that half of it was currently being hunted by a mad man with a bomb. In the command center, the air was heavy with the smell of scorched coffee and the hum of our high-end tech. Everyone was tense and it only made sense because the day felt heavy, even on my own shoulders.Sloane’s teams moved with lightning fast speed. They were tearing the city apart, mapping every possible hole where Julian could bury that device. We were running three different protocols at once—one for a remote trigger, one for a timer, one for proximity.Every incident was a new way for us to fail. The uncertainty was the real enemy. We needed to find the device before the convoy moved, or we had to move the convoy knowing the device was out there, active and waiting for a signal.I sat at the primary console, my eyes burning and teary from the artificial light. I cycled through the list: the Meridian Club, the Gravel Yards, the old Brentwood office, the Port Distr