2025-11-11 00:32:32
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Counter-strike
The storm hadn’t stopped by morning.Rain lashed against the windows of the safe house, a rented warehouse on the edge of the old industrial district. The place smelled of oil and metal, but it was off-grid, no cameras, no tracking signals.Alex hadn’t slept. He sat at a metal table littered with coffee cups, hard drives, and open notebooks, eyes fixed on the flickering screen of Claire’s laptop. Lines of code streamed down, tracing back through the remnants of Stanton’s old internal network.Claire walked in, hair damp, holding two mugs. “You look like you’ve been staring at that thing for hours.”“I have.” Alex’s voice was hoarse. “I keep thinking about what he said. Zephyr listens to me now.”She set the mug beside him. “You think Dominic’s bluffing?”“No,” Alex said quietly. “I think he’s already using it.”Claire took a sip of coffee, watching him. “Then we hit back first.”He looked up. “You have something?”She smirked, sitting down across from him. “Always. The good news? When
The Ghost of Zephyr
The drive north was quiet, tense, and wrapped in darkness.Highway lights cut across the windshield like flashes of memory, his father’s voice, the betrayal, the sudden inheritance. Everything that led him to this moment.Claire drove while Alex sat in the passenger seat, laptop open, eyes scanning the encrypted map coordinates again. “We’re close,” he murmured. “It should be right past the ridge.”“Stanton Research Facility,” Claire said softly. “Your father’s old playground.”Alex glanced out the window. The city lights had long vanished behind them, replaced by dense woods and endless black. The rain started again, thin and cold, whispering against the glass.They turned onto a narrow dirt road. The car jolted over broken asphalt until a faded sign came into view, half-buried in weeds:STAN— RESEARCH FACILITY. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.The rest of the letters had been burned away.Alex stepped out first, the wind biting at his face. “We’re here.”Claire joined him, flashlight in h
Project Zephyr
The next morning broke gray and heavy, like the city itself knew secrets were about to rise from the dark.Alex didn’t sleep. The anonymous call kept looping in his mind, each word sharper than the last: “Dig too deep and you’ll end up where he did.”He stared at the computer in his penthouse office, the file Claire had sent him flashing on screen. PROJECT ZEPHYR: CONFIDENTIAL.At exactly 7:00 a.m., Claire entered, holding two coffees and a laptop under her arm. Her hair was tied back today, all business, no warmth. “You’re up early,” she said.“Didn’t sleep,” Alex muttered, eyes locked on the file. “You said Zephyr was one of my father’s ghost projects. How deep does this go?”Claire sat beside him and opened her laptop. “Deeper than you think. I traced the money. Stanton Industries wasn’t the only one funding it. There’s another investor. Private. Hidden behind layers of offshore companies. My name shows up again and again, Dominic Vance.”Alex’s jaw tightened. “And who the hell is
The Shadows Behind the Throne
The morning sunlight barely pierced through the thick glass of Alex’s new office. It was a fortress in the sky, sleek black walls, panoramic city view, and a silence heavy enough to make any man feel powerful or paranoid. For Alex Stanton, it was both.He stood by the window, coffee in hand, staring down at the pulsing veins of New York. Cars zipped below like silver ants, unaware that empires could rise and crumble in the hands of a single man watching from above.He had won, for now.The board had voted in his favor the previous night, naming him Acting CEO of Stanton Industries. It was a title that carried both prestige and danger, power made you visible, and visibility painted targets on your back.Claire entered quietly, the soft click of her heels echoing against the marble floor. Her presence had become a constant, steady, graceful, sharp as glass.“Not bad for someone they once called a nobody,” she said, her lips curving into a half-smile as she placed a file on his desk.Ale
The First Blood Strike
The city woke under a pale, thin sun. For Alex, dawn had never looked this dangerous.They called it the first blood strike: a synchronized hit on the Serpent’s lifelines, money, reputation, and leverage all at once. No half measures. No slow plays. Burn the nerve centers and watch the arms twitch.Claire stood over the table in the warehouse, coffee cup in hand, eyes hard. The map lights reflected in her pupils like a war room. Tessa had the laptop open, fingers drifting across the keys like a pianist. Leo’s phone buzzed with live feeds. Marcus checked weapons like a man checking prayers.“We go in ten,” Claire said. “Tessa, are you sure the holes are deep enough?”Tessa didn’t look up. “They’re deeper than your scalp, Claire. I built tunnels through their VPN, their offshore switches, their nested proxies. I’ll ghost the origin signature so they blame each other. We pull liquidity tonight, I trigger the feeds, and you release the files to the outlets. Legal files go to regulators. T
The Father's Sin
The video’s glow flickered against the glass walls of the penthouse, washing the room in cold blue light.Mr. Stanton’s face filled the screen, older, weary, his eyes shadowed with the kind of guilt that time couldn’t erase.“If you’re watching this,” he began, his voice calm but heavy, “then you’ve stepped into my world. I built an empire, Alex, but every brick was laid with blood and lies. And the people who helped me build it… they were never meant to let me walk away.”Alex stood motionless, jaw tight.Claire didn’t breathe. The city outside was silent, as if listening too.“I joined the Serpent because I wanted control,” Mr. Stanton continued. “Not money. Not fame. Control. The kind that could move governments, rewrite laws, bury enemies without leaving a trace. And for a while, I thought I was untouchable.”He paused, his eyes flicking down as if searching for the right words.“But power doesn’t free you. It owns you. And when I realized what I’d become, what we’d become, I trie
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