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Chapter 37
That night, Logan sat alone in his room. The box sat open on his desk. Papers, medals, dog tags. He held a photo of a young boy—himself—dressed in a sharp cadet uniform, standing beside a man in military gear and a woman in a white suit.His parents.He didn’t remember their faces... but something inside him stirred.The laptop screen glowed. The drive was decrypted. A terminal popped up, asking for a passphrase.He stared at the blinking cursor..Then, slowly, he typed:Cipher-Delta-29The screen accepted it.Dozens of folders unfurled across the desktop—videos, files, audio logs. As Logan clicked the first video, his own face filled the screen.A younger Malachi. Sharper. Deadlier.“Field Report #027: Malachi Volkov, Codename: Cipher. Operation: Hammerfall. If this log is recovered, and I’m dead, then the bastard finally won…”Logan leaned in.The man on the screen continued:“But if I’m still alive, if I ever see this again, that means I survived what they did to me. And if that’s
CHAPTER 36
'Third point of view'The apartment door creaked open slowly under Logan’s hand. The scent of sandalwood and old books hit his nose immediately—a familiar, almost comforting smell that now felt like a mask for the lies that had been buried here. The apartment was dimly lit, the afternoon sun filtered through dusty curtains. Mr. Lee sat alone at the small kitchen table, a cup of tea trembling in his hands.Ever since he was discharged from the hospital, Logan hadn’t really taken time to pay him a visit. He had always made excuses that his wife’s family had not really afforded him enough time to visit. But after what happened tonight, after the incidence with Mr. Steele and the shocking photograph of himself in military uniform he had suddenly had the time that he never seemed to have.The moment Logan walked in, Mr. Lee looked up, startled. "Logan?" He called, a hint of surprise and expectation in his voice.“No,” Logan said firmly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind
CHAPTER 35
The safe house was tucked between two abandoned warehouses on the edge of the city’s industrial district, surrounded by rusted fences and the scent of burnt oil. Max parked the car in the shadows, motioning Chloe to keep her head down as they approached the reinforced steel door. A series of coded knocks later, they were inside.The interior was dimly lit, sparse but secure—concrete walls, heavy locks, and a bank of monitors linked to external cameras. Chloe didn’t waste time. As soon as the door clicked shut, she dropped the journal onto the table and turned to Max.“Mr. Buma told me everything.”Max arched a brow as he shrugged off his coat. “Everything?”Chloe nodded. “Canon Forte wasn’t just a side project. It was the endgame. Biological and psychological manipulation, complete obedience. It was never about weapons or war—it was about control.”Max ran a hand through his hair. “That lines up with what I’ve been digging up. But there's more.”Chloe looked up sharply. “What more?”M
CHAPTER 34
The weight of the leather-bound journal in Chloe’s hands felt heavier than it should have. It wasn’t just paper and ink—it was history, secrets, and, most importantly, danger. She ran her fingers over the worn cover, her mind already racing with questions. The old man’s words still echoed in her ears."Because it’s already too late."Chloe swallowed hard and flipped through the pages. The journal was filled with names, dates, and locations, but her eyes were drawn to a single phrase repeated in different entries—Red Canon of the Canon Forte.She glanced up at Mr. Buma, who watched her with weary eyes. "Tell me what you know. What exactly was Canon Forte? Was it also part of the blood moon?"Mr. Buma sighed, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. "Canon forte was indeed an extension of Red Blood. A final phase. The real reason behind everything we did."Chloe frowned. "Final phase of what?"Mr. Buma hesitated. Then, he pulled a chair and sat down, gesturing for Chloe to do the same. "Ye
CHAPTER 33
The streets were quieter than usual as Chloe left the train station, the conversation with Max still replaying in her mind. The weight of the folder in her hands felt heavier than it should, as if the information inside carried something more than just words—something dangerous.Sliding into the back seat of her car, she barely acknowledged the driver, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and sharp eyes that flicked toward her in the rearview mirror. His silence was almost unsettling, but she didn’t care."Drive," she ordered, her voice clipped.The car rumbled to life, rolling away from the abandoned station. The shadows stretched long across the pavement, the streetlights flickering weakly as if struggling to stay alive.Then, her phone vibrated.She tensed, pulling it from her coat pocket. A blocked number.For a moment, she hesitated. Then, she answered.“Ms. Chloe,” a deep, raspy voice greeted her.She felt her pulse spike. That voice—it was familiar, yet distant, like an echo fr
CHAPTER 32
Across the sprawling city, in a dimly lit office that smelled of old paper and burnt coffee, Detective Max sat at his desk, absently tapping his fingers against the thin file marked “CONFIDENTIAL.” The ticking of the clock on the far wall was the only sound accompanying him in the late hour, a relentless reminder that time was slipping away.Three days.That was all the time Ms. Chloe had given him to find something—anything—on a man named Logan.Yet after hours of combing through databases, sifting through every Logan recorded in New York's system, Max was no closer to an answer than when he’d started. There were plenty of men with that name, but none matched the peculiar details Chloe had given him. Logan wasn’t just an ordinary man. He fought like a trained operative, moved like a shadow, and disappeared just as easily. That alone set him apart from the rest.Max rubbed his temples, pushing away the headache forming at the base of his skull. His once steaming cup of coffee sat cold
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