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Chapter 136: Meeting the Monk of Montgomery!
Evans and Samantha turned at the same time, startled by the raspy voice that had cut through the thick, quiet air of the ruin. Standing by the half-collapsed doorway was an elderly man in a long brown robe tied with frayed cord.Samantha took an instinctive step back. “Who the hell is that?”Evans stood up fully, his fingers brushing off the dust. “I’m not sure.”He knew where they were was one of the monasteries where according to his investigation, the monks once protected, and if he should judge by the man’s appearance, he wouldn’t be wrong to identify him as one of the monks.The old man took a step forward, his sandals silent on the dusty floor. “You should not be here,” he said again, voice stronger this time.Evans met his gaze. “Why not?”The man said nothing at first, and was just walking around as if trying to make sure that nothing that had been stolen from the place.“I don’t owe you an answer, young man. So, if I were you, I’d be leaving right away,” the man replied, this
Chapter 135: A trip to Montgomery!
The morning sun rose over the capital, veiling the city in gold as if mocking the darkness beneath its streets. For Inspector Evans Tony, sleep had become a distant memory—replaced by files, questions, and unanswered whispers that led to one singular word:Flameborn.He stood by the window of his CIA-owned apartment, scanning the list of names and locations he’d compiled the night before. Every lead pointed to one place. The place where Philip Hart’s life had allegedly transformed.Montgomery.The birthplace of whispers. The city no one talks about unless they’ve lived its silence.He sipped black coffee as the old question burned inside him: What really happened to my father fifteen years ago? And what was so special about Flameborn that made Philip Hart so feared and revered?He didn’t tell Whitaker. He wouldn’t. Not after how the director tried to bury every attempt to investigate Jackson. If Whitaker didn’t want the truth uncovered, then he would dig until it strangled him.After
Chapter 134: The Devils Behind the Curtain!
The room was darkened, save for the soft amber glow from a chandelier hanging above the long, mahogany table. The private lounge on the 33rd floor of the Halberd Tower—reserved only for political aristocracy and generational kingmakers—was shrouded in quiet.Evans stepped in with a calm expression, but every step forward was matched by the internal pounding of suspicion in his gut. This was no ordinary meeting. This was him meeting with the two most powerful men in the city after the Harts.After the invite from Samantha, he had gone back to do his homework and had found out that Don Lewis had one time being part of the Hart’s under the umbrella of Red Echo from which the Red Tails had broken out from to have now become an independent mafia organization.But that wasn’t what had really caught his attention during his private investigation. Instead, what had caught his attention was in the simple discovery that Don Lewis and Philip Hart had once been very good friends starting from th
Chapter 133: Beyond the Eclipse!
“Who’s there?” Jackson repeated, his voice low, firm—but not without fear.The room said nothing but the mark on his palm shimmered softly, like an ember kissed by unseen wind. He could feel the presence—something evil and ancient—a force that watched more than it spoke.It immediately brought back the flash vision he had before back to him and the student he fought in his dream flashed before his eyes again.He stood still, waiting for what will happen next, but then, the curtains settled.The silence remained but that was not convincing enough to make Jackson walk away and leave her to sleep alone in that room.He could feel it in his breath and in the air. In the way the Flame inside him whispered caution—not with words, but with tension in his bones.Finally, he backed away from the window, drew the curtains closed, and turned back to Bella who still lay sound asleep, undisturbed by the disturbance that had rattled him.He decided to stay with her all through the night just to wat
Chapter 132: A Whisper in the Dark!
The campaign headquarters of Senator Patrick Stones pulsed with energy—banners fluttering in the warm wind, LED screens lighting up the entrance, and staffers hustling through the hallways with clipboards and comm devices.Bella adjusted the strap of her designer leather bag as she walked through the main doors, nodding at familiar faces. It felt both surreal and oddly familiar to be part of Senator Patrick’s campaign team, especially now—as the national spotlight was finally turning toward Stones as the true contender.“Bella! Welcome,” said Martina Fields, the campaign's chief communications officer, rushing to greet her with a bright smile. “It’s so nice to have the campus beauty queen in our midst.”Bella smiled politely and returned the hug. “Just here to help, like always. Senator Patrick Stones has got a momentum now—and we all want to make sure he doesn’t lose it.”Martina gestured for her to follow. “Come on. Senator Stones is upstairs. He heard you were coming.”As they clim
Chapter 131: The International Observers!
Jackson was seated on the veranda balcony of Sky Tower when Mr. Copper walked in. The young Flame bearer had been trying to enjoy a moment of peace—watching the ocean light stretch across the horizon, his thoughts still tangled as he tried to make a mental note of the student he had fought with in his dream at the beach.He sensed Mr. Copper’s presence before he heard him.“Something’s wrong,” Jackson said, his voice low. “I can feel it.”“You’re right,” Mr. Copper said flatly, walking toward him. “And I need you to listen very carefully.”Jackson turned. His expression immediately shifted when he saw the unusual worry behind Mr. Copper’s eyes.Mr. Copper was yet to tell him about the three foreigners who came into the city two days ago while Jackson was still at the beach enjoying himself with his friends.“We have… visitors in the capital,” Copper began. “Three high-level operatives from China, Russia, and Israel. Arrived under diplomatic immunity. No media, no flags, no political f
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