Chapter 44
last update2025-07-01 01:30:55

"Third Point Of View''

“Malachi… if you’re hearing this, it means the bloodlines have fractured. Canon Forte has fallen. And you, my son, are all that remains of what I tried to build.”

Logan’s—Malachi’s—fingers gripped the sides of the recorder as the voice of his father flowed into the room like smoke from an old war. Viktor Volkov’s voice was slower than he remembered. Measured. Tired. The cadence of a man recording his own obituary beneath collapsing ceilings and traitorous shadows.

“I never wanted this for you. Never wanted my son to inherit ruin and fire. You were supposed to lead in peace. But peace died with Ridgegate.”

The words poured into the bunker like scripture, each sentence stitching the past and present into something unbearably whole. Malachi closed his eyes.

He could almost see the man again—his father, tall and composed, wearing that same grey coat laced with battle insignia. Not affectionate. Not warm. But always present. Always precise.

“If you are listening, th
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  • Chapter 45

    The resurrection of Canon Forte had triggered more than machines.It had stirred the old loyalties—the long-buried instincts of men and women who once swore oaths in silence, far from the spotlight of the world. And now, in the deepest bunker of Volkov Terminal 7, those loyalties stood reborn.Malachi Volkov—Cipher—stood before the Phantom Guard.Twelve operatives. The best. Handpicked during the height of his father’s reign. Their records had been erased from every database. Their names stripped from history. These were not soldiers. They were ghosts with purpose.They had returned because he called them.He faced them now, dressed in newly-reinforced combat armor bearing the Volkov insignia. Not Logan’s cheap streetwear. Not the muted, civilian mask he’d once worn to hide from a past too heavy to carry..He was done hiding.“This is not a reunion,” Malachi said, his voice carrying evenly through the chamber. “This is a reckoning.”No one spoke. Their attention was fixed, absolute.“

  • Chapter 44

    "Third Point Of View'' “Malachi… if you’re hearing this, it means the bloodlines have fractured. Canon Forte has fallen. And you, my son, are all that remains of what I tried to build.”Logan’s—Malachi’s—fingers gripped the sides of the recorder as the voice of his father flowed into the room like smoke from an old war. Viktor Volkov’s voice was slower than he remembered. Measured. Tired. The cadence of a man recording his own obituary beneath collapsing ceilings and traitorous shadows.“I never wanted this for you. Never wanted my son to inherit ruin and fire. You were supposed to lead in peace. But peace died with Ridgegate.”The words poured into the bunker like scripture, each sentence stitching the past and present into something unbearably whole. Malachi closed his eyes.He could almost see the man again—his father, tall and composed, wearing that same grey coat laced with battle insignia. Not affectionate. Not warm. But always present. Always precise.“If you are listening, th

  • Chapter 43

    The firelight flickered restlessly along the curved walls of the bunker, casting dancing shadows that stretched like ghosts across the floor. The heat from the flames did little to chase away the cold that settled deep in Logan’s chest.He sat alone at the heart of Volkov Terminal 7, once the nerve center of a forgotten empire, now resurrected under his command. Around him, the chamber hummed with quiet power—screens lining the walls pulsed with reawakened systems, ghost frequencies blinking to life, dormant weapons caches signaling their reactivation like ancient beasts shaking off dust and time.The Resurrection Protocol had worked. Canon Forte was no longer a myth. Its heartbeat was back—and he was the pulse.The Phantom Guard had answered. Severov and Gratz had rejoined him. Old allies were surfacing from the fringes of history, pledging loyalty not to a ghost, but to him.He should have felt invincible. Empowered.Instead, Logan felt like a man standing in a cathedral built for a

  • Chapter 42

    The silence was a kind of violence.Not the dramatic kind that screamed with alarms or echoed with gunfire—but the insidious, suffocating sort. The kind that pressed down on the bones. That crawled under the skin. That crept into the soul and whispered, You’re alone.Sophia Riven sat bound to a metal chair in the center of a room built to erase people. No clock. No window. No reflection. The lights overhead burned bright and sterile, casting sharp-edged shadows on the concrete floor. It was cold, but not freezing. Just enough to make her feel exposed. Just enough to keep her slightly uncomfortable—perpetually vulnerable..Her wrists ached from the cuffs. Her lips were dry. Her legs, asleep. She had no idea how long she’d been here—six hours? Twelve? A day?But time had stopped mattering the moment Commander Nox whispered the words that shattered her world.“Your husband is Cipher. He is Malachi Volkov.”She stared blankly at the wall ahead of her now, but her mind… her mind was alive.

  • Chapter 41

    "Third Point Of View''The night sky hung like an obsidian curtain over the mountain pass, broken only by the muted pulse of infrared scanners and the occasional drone slicing silently through the clouds. Wind howled over the rocks like the ghosts of old wars—wars that had never truly ended.Deep inside a bunker carved into the heart of a forgotten Volkov stronghold, Logan Styles—no, Malachi Volkov—stood alone.He didn’t wear a mask. Not yet. But the man staring at his reflection in the polished steel panel wasn’t Logan anymore. His eyes were darker, colder. His jaw clenched harder. The hesitation… gone.Behind him, footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate.General Steele, bruised and still partially recovering from his wounds, stepped into the room. Beside him were two older men in suits that didn’t belong in any government today. Their faces were aged by time, but their presence still sharp—military, calculated, and alert.Steele’s voice was low. “They came. Just like I told you they wou

  • Chapter 40

    'Third Point Of View' The evening air outside the Riven Foundation building clung to the skin—heavy with spring warmth and the low hum of passing cars. Sophia Riven stood at the steps in her heels, phone pressed to her ear, her other hand gripping her bag strap tighter than she realized.It had been eight days since Logan disappeared.Eight long, aching days.And she was tired of pretending she didn’t care.At first, she'd told herself it was nothing—he probably needed space. Maybe he was dealing with stress or one of his usual silent moods. But as the hours turned to days, and the days into an unbearable, crawling week, concern had twisted into confusion… and now settled as a cold fury in her chest.The phone on her ear buzzed with the voice of Ava, her assistant and closest confidante.“…have you at least heard anything?” Ava asked. “No texts? No sightings?”“No, Ava,” Sophia muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not a single call. No note. No explanation. Just…” She glance

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