2025-08-14 23:56:11
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Ch-179
The old refuge tunnels beneath Nova Point were supposed to be dormant. Sealed. Cleansed. Nathan stepped into the darkness anyway. Harper waited at the surface gate, uneasy in a way she rarely was. “They said something moved down there last night. Something whispering.” Nathan nodded. “If it’s just a fragment echo, I’ll deal with it.” He paused, met her eyes. “If it’s more—pull me out. No hesitation.” Harper gave a single nod and closed the gate behind him. The descent was silent. Cold. Lantern light flickered along the curved stone, catching old markings from the Syndicate’s occupation—symbols meant to focus fear, still etched faintly along the walls. Nathan moved until the air shifted, like a breath drawn in the dark. And then he heard it. A soft laugh. Dry. Childlike. “Still pretending to be their savior?” Nathan stopped. Slowly turned his head. There was nothing there—just a smear of shadow in the shape of a human, barely visible at the edge of the light. It moved agai
Ch-178
The marble lobby of the Astoria Museum glittered with chandeliers, their light spilling across silk gowns and tailored suits. Crystal flutes clinked. The city’s wealthiest patrons mingled beneath a massive banner: Gala Night, Celebrating the Crown of Avaris.Nathan moved through the crowd with his usual measured stride, black suit perfectly cut, expression unreadable. Harper followed a few steps behind, eyes scanning the crowd for trouble. Tonight was meant to be symbolic — the Crown of Avaris, one of the rarest artifacts tied to the ancient ring guardians, was being displayed for the first time in decades.They hadn’t been inside five minutes before a thin man with slicked-back hair and an overly polite smile intercepted them. His name tag read Laurent Villard – Senior Curator.“Mr. Kade,” Laurent said, voice smooth as oil. “We appreciate your… enthusiasm for tonight’s event. But I must remind you, this is a private gala. The guest list is curated with the utmost care.”Nathan’s gaze
Ch-177
The revolving doors of the Meridian Crown Hotel spun Nathan into a burst of polished marble and the low hum of wealth. Crystal chandeliers dripped light across the lobby, catching in the gold leaf trim of the pillars. He walked toward the reception desk, his black coat trailing a muted swish against the tiles. It was a quiet evening, the kind where the only sounds were the faint notes of piano music from the bar and the soft clicking of heels across the floor.The receptionist spotted him halfway across the lobby. Her name tag read Elise, her lipstick too sharp, her smile too thin.“Yes?” she said before he could even greet her, her tone clipped and impatient. “We have a dress code for guests. Sir, the lounge is through the other entrance.”Nathan stopped. “I’m checking in.”She gave a slow, skeptical glance over his outfit—a tailored coat, dark trousers, polished boots. Not a thread out of place. Yet she arched an eyebrow as though he’d wandered in from the street.“I think you migh
Ch-176
The lobby was a cathedral of glass and marble, its towering windows catching the morning light and spilling it across the polished floor like a spotlight meant for someone else. Nathan walked in without hurry, dressed in a dark suit that didn’t flaunt wealth so much as make wealth irrelevant. Harper was beside him, scrolling on her tablet, their conversation low and unhurried. The receptionist noticed them—then chose to ignore them. She looked up once, took in Nathan, and dismissed him with the kind of quick, superior smirk that people wear when they think they’ve judged you in a single breath. Her hands stayed poised over the keyboard, tapping loudly, deliberately not acknowledging his presence. Nathan stood at the desk, waiting. “Checking in,” he said evenly. She didn’t look up. “Name?” Her tone was the perfect blend of bored and disdainful. “Nathan Aurelian.” That got her attention. Her eyes flicked to the monitor, then to him. The smirk sharpened. “Oh. Right. The suite is… un
Ch-175
The marble floor of the Bellavista Grand gleamed under the warm chandelier light, but Nathan barely noticed it. He had walked through lobbies like this a hundred times before—always with quiet confidence, never questioned. Today, though, was different. The receptionist’s eyes flicked up from her computer screen as he approached, then narrowed. “Can I help you?” Her tone made it clear she meant prove you belong here. “I have a reservation under Nathan Hale,” he said evenly, setting his ID and booking confirmation on the counter. She didn’t pick them up. Instead, she glanced at his plain jacket, then at the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Sir, guests of this hotel usually check in through our executive desk,” she said, voice sugar-coated but laced with condescension. “The standard lobby is… for other clientele.” Around them, conversations paused. A pair of suited businessmen glanced over. A family on the sofa exchanged awkward looks. Nathan kept his voice calm. “I am a guest.”
Ch-174
The Alhambra Grand had been marketed as “a sanctuary for the elite,” but Nathan had learned long ago that velvet curtains and gold leaf only hid sharper claws. He and Harper stepped through the glass doors just past noon, the sun refracting off the marble floors like a spotlight. They were supposed to meet the Pacific delegation upstairs—a quick handshake, a private exchange before tomorrow’s summit session. He had deliberately kept the entourage small. No media, no security parade. He wanted this to be quiet. It wasn’t. The moment he reached the reception desk, the young man behind it leaned forward with a tight, too-bright smile. The nameplate read A. Mirren. His suit was perfectly pressed, but the tilt of his mouth carried the faintest smugness. “I’m sorry, sir,” Mirren said, voice carrying just enough to be overheard by the guests scattered through the opulent lobby. “Your reservation appears to have… been cancelled. This morning, in fact. No rooms are currently available unde
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