The crystal chandeliers of the Grand Ballroom didn’t just illuminate the room; they seemed to mock the carnage below. Under the shimmering light, the elite of Jakarta’s high society looked like scattered ants, their silk gowns and bespoke tuxedos stained by the panic that had swept through the hall only minutes prior.Silas Prabuwijaya stepped over a discarded champagne flute, his boots clicking sharply against the polished marble. He didn’t look like he belonged at a gala, despite his tailored charcoal suit. There was a jaggedness to his movements, a restlessness that suggested he was more at home in the humidity of an alleyway than under the cooling vents of a five-star hotel.He stopped in front of a young officer who was fumbling with a roll of yellow caution tape."Tell me you didn’t let everyone leave through the main foyer," Silas said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.The officer jumped, nearly dropping the tape. "Detective Silas! Uh, no, sir. Well, some of them. It

The heavy-caliber rounds finally stopped chewing through the penthouse walls, replaced by the distant, dying roar of an engine and the frantic screams of sirens approaching from Mega Kuningan. Silas didn’t move. He kept his body draped over Anastasia, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her shoulder. The air was thick with the smell of cordite, expensive scotch, and pulverized plaster."Are you hit?" Silas hissed, his voice raspy from the dust.Anastasia’s fingers dug into his forearm, her knuckles white. "I... I don't think so. My dress is ruined, though.""Perspective, Anastasia. Try to find some," Silas grunted, slowly pushing himself up. He scanned the wreckage of the living room. "Nadia? You still in one piece?""I’m in the kitchen!" a shaky voice called out. "I’m... I think I’m okay. I’m calling the Commissioner.""Good. Tell him to bring a cleaning crew and a SWAT team," Silas muttered, helping Anastasia to her feet. He looked at her, really looked at her, checking for

“Silas, get out of there,” Dorian’s voice crackled, frantic and thin against the thumping bass of the club. “Riven’s guys are moving. They’ve spotted you!”Silas didn't blink. He kept his eyes locked on Anastasia, watching that sharp, knowing smile linger on her lips before she stood up. She tucked the silver briefcase under her arm as if it were nothing more than a designer clutch."I’m not leaving without her, Dorian," Silas muttered into his lapel."The hell you aren't! There are four of them coming up the back stairs and two more blocking the main bar. Silas, you’re outgunned and out of your mind!""Then tell me where she’s parked.""Valet. Black S-Class. Plates ending in KRT. She’s already heading for the private lift.""Keep the engine running," Silas said, turning on his heel. He didn't take the stairs. He vaulted over the velvet railing of the VIP tier, landing hard on the dance floor."Hey! Watch it, pal!" a man in a neon-soaked shirt yelled as Silas shoved past."Police! Mov

“The Chief doesn't know what we’re dealing with,” Silas said, his voice echoing in the sterile silence of the forensics lab as he headed for the door. “Nobody does. But I think I just figured out why Anastasia was so calm when the lights went out. She wasn't watching a murder. She was watching a harvest.”“Silas, wait! You can’t just go in there swinging!” Dorian shouted, scrambling to keep up as Silas navigated the precinct’s maze-like corridors. “The conservatory is a fortress. You’ll be arrested before you even see a leaf!”Silas didn’t slow down until he reached the parking lot. The humid night air hit him, thick with the smell of exhaust and approaching rain. He leaned against his dented Toyota, the weight of the orchid petal in his pocket feeling like a hot coal.“You’re right,” Silas muttered, pulling out his phone. “I don't need a blowtorch. I need a ghost.”“A ghost? Silas, what are you—?”“Go home, Dorian. Get some sleep. If the Chief asks, tell him I’m at a shrine praying f

“No, Celine,” Silas said, his gaze fixed on the dark, rainy horizon. “I think the harvest is just beginning.”The sirens were a dissonant choir against the rhythm of the rain. Silas felt the adrenaline begin to ebb, replaced by a bone-deep ache that made every breath feel like a chore. He tightened his grip on Celine’s hand as a pair of medics rushed toward them, their flashlights cutting through the gloom.“She’s okay,” Silas shouted over the wind, though his voice cracked. “Just get her into the ambulance. Shock, maybe some bruising. Just... just take care of her.”“Silas, wait,” Celine grabbed his sleeve, her eyes red-rimmed and frantic. “Where are you going? You’re bleeding, too.”“I’m fine, kid. I have to finish this,” Silas said, gently prying her fingers loose. “Dorian! Get her to the hospital. Stay with her. Don’t let anyone through that door who isn’t wearing a uniform you recognize.”Dorian trotted over, his face pale under the flickering halogen lights. “I’ve got her, Silas