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Chapter 536: The Cost of Loose Ends
Chapter 536: The Cost of Loose EndsThe midday sun beat down on the floor-to-ceiling glass of Williams Jesse’s private office, but the warmth felt distant, almost offensive. Williams stood with his back to the door, his reflection in the glass looking older, the lines around his eyes deepened by a week of sleepless nights and high-stakes deception. His phone buzzed on the mahogany desk behind him—a short, jagged vibration that signaled a message from the dark web relay he used to communicate with the "contractors."He turned and picked up the device. The message was brief: Target escaped. Heavy resistance. One casualty on our side. Area compromised by local PD and ESU. Standing down."Incompetent fools," Williams hissed, his voice a low, dangerous snarl. He threw the phone onto the leather surface of his desk.He had spent sixty thousand dollars of the stolen EMC reserves to hire a specialized crew from the North District—men who didn't know his name, only his digita
Chapter 535: The Blood Trail
Chapter 535: The Blood TrailThe morning air was crisp and carried the sharp, metallic tang of cordite and copper. Detective Morrison stepped under the yellow police tape, his boots crunching on broken glass that sparkled like diamonds against the grime of the abandoned textile mill. It was 7:00 AM, and the sun was just beginning to highlight the jagged holes punched into the brickwork by high-caliber rounds.He walked toward a heavy iron loom where a cluster of forensic techs were placing yellow numbered markers. A dark, tacky pool of blood sat on the concrete, with a smeared trail leading toward the rear exit."Morning, Detective," a patrol officer said, nodding toward the carnage. "Neighbors reported a war zone around 2:00 AM. Screaming tires, submachine gun fire, the works. We found over fifty casings. Nine-millimeter and .45 caliber.""Any bodies?" Morrison asked, kneeling to inspect a brass casing near the door."Zero. Just the blood," the officer replied.
Chapter 534: The Rats in the Wall
Chapter 534: The Rats in the WallThe air in the abandoned textile mill was thick with the smell of damp rot and old grease. At 2:00 AM, the only light came from the moon filtering through the jagged remains of the window panes, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor. Kane sat on a rusted crate, his hand gripping the cold steel of a pistol. Across from him, Dorian was trying to light a cigarette with shaking hands, while Tom lay on a pile of moldy burlap sacks, his eyes closed in a fitful sleep.They have been on the run since Marcus had been taken, the world had shrunk to the size of this crumbling room."We can't stay here much longer," Dorian whispered, the flame of his lighter flickering. "The cops are everywhere. I saw a cruiser circling the block three times before midnight.""The cops aren't the problem," Kane replied, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "The cops want to talk. It's the people who want us dead that I'm worried about."Suddenly, the si
Chapter 533: The Scent of a Ghost
Chapter 533: The Scent of a Ghost The penthouse was silent, save for the low hum of the city breathing sixty floors below. Liam Carter sat in a high-backed velvet chair, swirling a glass of amber liquid that caught the dim light of the room. Across from him sat his new lead investigator, Vance. Vance was a man who looked like he had been forged in a furnace and quenched in ice water. He was a seasoned veteran of corporate espionage and private intelligence, with a face mapped by small, jagged scars and eyes that never seemed to blink. Unlike Gregor, who relied on tech and distance, Vance was a man who preferred the weight of a physical file and the grit of the street. He didn’t wear a cheap suit or carry a bulky camera. He was a seasoned, hardened professional with a face that looked like it had been carved out of old granite. His hair was a military buzz-cut, turning silver at the temples, and his eyes had a flat, cold stillness to them—the
Chapter 532: The Counter-Move
Chapter 532: The Counter-MoveThe afternoon sun hit the glass facade of the EMC building at a sharp angle, turning the executive floor into a greenhouse of redirected light and simmering anxiety.James stood by the heavy oak desk in his office, his eyes fixed on the digital ticker of the company’s internal server. He could feel the vibration of the building—not from the machinery, but from the people. The air was heavy with the collective breath of five hundred employees who felt the floor slipping out from under them.A soft knock came at his door. Ana, his dedicated assistant, stepped in. She didn't have her usual brisk, professional smile. Instead, her shoulders were slumped, and she was clutching a tablet to her chest like a shield."Sir," she said, her voice barely rising above the hum of the ventilation system. "The breakroom is a disaster. People aren't even pretending to work. They’re talking about mortgage payments and school tuitions. Someone started a rumo
Chapter 531: The Whispering Gallery
Chapter 531: The Whispering GalleryThe eleventh hour on Monday morning at the Emerald Multisource Corporation (EMC) headquarters felt like the inside of a pressure cooker. The air conditioning hummed, but it couldn't cool the rising heat of anxiety radiating from every cubicle.Alisha Carl walked through the HR department, her heels clicking a rhythmic, sharp cadence against the marble floor. She held a stack of "Employee Assistance" brochures, but her mind was focused on the cold, calculated instructions Liam Carter had given her at the Riverside Hotel.She stopped by the breakroom, where two junior HR coordinators, Sarah and Mike, were huddled over the coffee machine. Their faces were pale, their eyes darting toward the executive elevators every time the bell chimed.“What do you guys think about Eric’s leadership?” She asked them after they exchanged pleasantries."He looks worse every day," Sarah whispered, stirring her sugarless coffee with a plastic stick.
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