2025-09-23 18:10:26Finn sat in the corner of the cold, sterile room, the white walls reflecting the harsh glow of the neon lights. His body was thin, but the aura he projected far outweighed his frame. He leaned back, hands folded in his lap, lips curling into a thin smile—a smile that was neither friendly nor warm, but full of secrets and simmering revenge.
Softly, he began to hum—not a tune for amusement, but a melody only he could understand: the rhythm of anger stitched into a false calm. Every note, every word he hummed was a reminder—four years ago, his life had been destroyed by the people he loved, by a wife who stabbed him in the back, by a family that laughed at him at his lowest moment.
A nurse passed by, her expression tightening at the sight of Finn.
Finn stared at her, eyes sharp as blades. He rose slowly, each movement deliberate, despite his frail body. He took the certificate, flipping it over as if reading a script mocking him. His thin smile widened, but his eyes remained cold, piercing.
“Sane?” he murmured, his voice low but tinged with restrained fury. “I was never insane.”
The nurse flinched. The words hit the empty room like an explosion. Finn stood upright, appearing fragile, yet the aura around him was threatening. He fixed the nurse with a sharp stare, and suddenly, the room fell silent.
“Four years you locked me up… four years you threw me into this hell… and now you tell me I’m sane?!” His voice rose, yet remained controlled. Anger boiled beneath the surface, tempered by a terrifying calm—a predator’s patience, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Another nurse stepped in, trying to calm him. “Finn, you’re free now. Please… don’t make trouble…” She paused, seeing the fire in his eyes. Finn exhaled slowly, gripping the certificate, slipping it into his pocket, and that thin smile returned—sharper, colder, more calculated than before.
“All right,” he said quietly. “I’m leaving.”
His steps out of the iron door felt like small explosions. The outside air slapped his face, sunlight too bright, city sounds too loud. The world felt alien, and each step confirmed he was back—but not as the same man. He walked with a cold gaze, and anyone who looked at him instinctively stepped back.
Finn didn’t notice them. He had only one thought: revenge. Everyone who had erased him, humiliated him, framed him—they would regret it.
Outside, the world seemed peaceful, but Finn could feel injustice flowing in the air. He stopped at a small convenience store to buy a bottle of water. As he stepped out, an elderly woman stumbled on the small stairs. His instincts kicked in—Finn caught her before she fell.
The woman gasped, eyes wide. “Oh, young man… you saved me.”
“No problem. Be more careful next time. Were you alone?” Finn asked.
Suddenly, a large man appeared from behind, muscular, tense.
Finn looked at him for a moment, unmoving, only assessing. His eyes were cold, sharp. “I… just held her so she wouldn’t fall,” he replied, his voice calm, yet every word sounded like a warning.
Ruth appeared behind him, eyes blazing at her bodyguard. “Henry! Let him go! Finn saved me, and you almost hit him?” Her voice rang with authority.
The bodyguard froze, face red. “But—”
“But nothing! I said so, and you won’t understand until you’re old like me!” Ruth cut him off sharply.
She signaled her bodyguard to return to the car, then turned back to Finn, extending her hand.
Her words and the sly glance that traveled over Finn’s entire body made him realize she was not an ordinary “old woman.”
Ruth was old, but elegant. Her silver-white hair was neatly combed back, her wrinkled skin still well-kept. A cream silk dress with subtle gold patterns and diamond rings on her fingers radiated understated luxury.
“Thank you for the compliment. You’re very attractive too, Ruth,” Finn replied.
She took his hand gently, stroking it lightly. “By the way, where are you headed? Oh, and I have something for you.”
Ruth released his hand and reached into her bag, pulling out her wallet. Finn saw stacks of cash and black cards that spoke of her wealth. She took out a thick wad of money and handed it to Finn with a soft smile.
“Take this. Consider it a token of thanks for your kindness in helping and flattering me,” she said.
Finn froze for a moment. The sum was five thousand dollars—an extravagant reward for a simple act of help.
“Oh… that’s not necessary. I don’t need money—I mean, I do, but this is too much, Ruth. I helped you because, as humans, we should help each other, right?”
In truth, Finn desperately wanted the money. Coming out of the asylum, he had nothing—no assets, no home, no family, nothing to rely on.
Ruth chuckled softly and placed the money firmly in his hand. “Take it, no more excuses. I know you’re handsome, and your frame shows me this money can help you live comfortably for the next few days.”
Finn gave a thin smile, then nodded. “All right, I’ll take it. Thank you, Ruth.”
She leaned in slightly, her blue eyes sharp yet gentle, her smile teasing.
Finn studied her for a long moment. Her words were simple, but there was a hint of opportunity and influence behind them. He smiled a thin, calculated smile once more.
“All right,” he replied. "I'll come."
"Good boy."
Ruth’s eyes brightened, unaware of the storm behind that smile. Finn followed her as she motioned for him to the car, bodyguard Henry now reluctantly staying behind. But even as he stepped forward, Finn’s mind raced.
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“Tell me what you want—why Ruth?” Finn asked, buying rhythm, buying time.“You were meant to be invisible,” the intruder said. “They wrote scripts. They assumed you’d stay small. I was given an assignment: remove the variable. You became inconvenient. Ruth—her wealth, her reach—she’s leverage. She gets you to dance.”Finn watched the intruder’s eyes for a fissure. There was none. Just a patient arrogance that came from being bankrolled and informed, from knowing someone would cover steps if anything went wrong.“All right,” Finn said. “If you want me to walk out there and hand you whatever you think I have—if you want me to step into the corridor and let you take me away—give me two things first.”The intruder’s brow twitched. “Name them.”“First: you let Ruth stay still and untouched while I move. No harm, no stunts. Second: you come within my sight—no pipes, no corridors where you can vanish. Let me see your face clearly. If you want proof that I won’t give the ledger, I’ll give you
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The room camera gave them a narrow view: the intruder’s silhouette, hood thrown back, features blurred by camera grain. They paused at the bed and, in one smooth motion, slid something along the sheet. Finn leaned forward, straining for shape: a glint of metal, a length of tubing, a small sealed syringe? The camera didn’t resolve the detail before a slight movement of Ruth’s hand brushed the intruder’s arm.Time telescoped. For Finn, the world lengthened into the sound of distant boots and a thin, high hum of monitors. He could see the nurse at the doorway, frozen, eyes wide as she registered the person standing beside her patient. He could see the intruder’s head tilt, listening not to the monitor but to the whispered commands over a hidden earpiece.And then the intruder’s voice—close enough that the camera captured the tilt of their mouth—was calm, cold: “Mr. Callahan,” they said. “You can watch. Or you can act.”Finn’s throat went dry. The team was surrounding the wing now, moving
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Finn moved like a man whose life had been spent learning how to make seconds count. He folded himself into silence, voice low and precise into the secure earpiece. “Alpha teams, positions,” he said. “Bravo, cover the south stairwell. Charlie, vents and roof access. No lights, no sudden moves. We do not engage unless I give the word.”Outside, the hospital’s sterile lights hummed, indifferent. Inside, the rhythm was a metronome for the operation Finn had orchestrated from his office: a chessboard of men and women in dark jackets, radios patched into channels he controlled. Albrecht’s teams moved like ghosts—trained, efficient, chosen for discretion. Finn had insisted on professionals who could be surgical, not theatrical. Tonight, the difference between a surgeon and a butcher would matter.He kept his eyes on the feed of Ruth’s room. The camera was angled just enough to show the bed, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the faint twitch of an IV line—not a thing out of place to anyone
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The shadow outside the corridor hadn’t moved for several minutes, but that made him more uneasy—not less. Patience was a weapon, and this intruder was testing him, baiting him like a predator with prey on the edge.Albrecht stepped closer, whispering, “Finn, the security team reports an unidentified individual bypassed two checkpoints. They’re trying to get close to the ICU entrance. I’ve mobilized additional units, but—”Finn cut him off sharply. “No, Albrecht. Subtlety. We can’t spook Ruth or trigger them to panic. We control this, or Ruth is dead.”Albrecht exhaled slowly, recognizing the cold logic in Finn’s eyes. “Understood. I’ll coordinate remotely. Keep your eyes on her.”Finn’s focus didn’t waver. He mapped the intruder’s possible approaches in his mind—doors, vents, access points, even staff routines. But the anomaly wasn’t ordinary. Someone inside the hospital, someone who knew every procedure, every timing, and yet, moved like a shadow in sync with him.Meanwhile, across t
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Finn’s hand trembled slightly as he ended the call. He stared at the phone, unblinking, the city lights outside his office reflecting in the dark screen. Whoever had just spoken knew something—knew exactly how to hit the one soft spot Finn had never admitted existed: Ruth. His mind raced, calculating probabilities, contingencies, and possible traps, but one thought remained stubbornly clear: Ruth’s life was now the battlefield.Albrecht, sensing the tension, stepped forward cautiously. “Finn… what happened?”Finn clenched his jaw. “Someone knows about Ruth. They’re targeting her. And they’re not bluffing.”Albrecht’s eyes widened. “Do you know who?”Finn shook his head. “No. Not yet. But they’re inside the network, inside the system. Whoever this is, they’ve waited for the right moment—and that moment is now.”The office felt colder, even with the hum of electronics and the faint scent of espresso lingering in the air. Finn pulled up secure video feeds of Ruth’s suite at St. Mary’s Ho
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Albrecht entered without knocking, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. “Finn, you’ve built a fortress around your operations. Any small leaks they’ve attempted? Neutralized?”Finn turned, a slight smile on his lips. “Already. Every subtle misdirection, every whisper of doubt, it’s all cataloged. They think they’re testing me, but really, they’re feeding my strategy.”Albrecht raised an eyebrow. “And the psychological angle? Ruth’s condition still sensitive. Are you confident the pressure won’t compromise her recovery?”Finn’s eyes narrowed. “I control that variable. All communications go through me. Every rumor, every conversation, every impression—they all pass through a filter I designed. No misstep will reach her.”By late morning, Finn convened a strategy meeting with his core team. The atmosphere was tense but controlled. “Today,” he began, “we anticipate not just direct attacks, but indirect manipulations. Daniella and Hans have begun the second phase. Subtle hints,
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