2026-08-09 15:31:53
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CHAPTER 234
Brett pocketed his phone. Whatever was happening with Vivienne and her fake boyfriend would wait. A Dark List assassination on his turf was the kind of career defining moment that either made you a legend or got you buried in a report nobody would ever read.“Gear up.” Webb stood. “We move in thirty.”Meanwhile, across town, the Park family manor was glowing like a lantern in the autumn evening. The manor was old Crestwood aristocracy, a stone and wood estate surrounded by cypress trees and iron fencing that had been there since before the city had a name.Lawrence Griffin sat at the head of the dinner table in a charcoal suit, his silver hair combed back, his wine glass half full, and his posture carrying the relaxed authority of a man who had survived two assassination attempts this year and wasn’t particularly worried about a third.Trevor Park sat to his right. Twenty six years old, sharp featured, with the quiet confidence of a young man who had earned his Grandmaster title throu
CHAPTER 233
Brett Calloway walked into the Special Division’s temporary headquarters with the kind of energy that made people press themselves against walls to let him pass. The headquarters was located inside the Crestwood Police Department’s restricted wing, a concrete corridor behind three locked doors that didn’t appear on any public blueprint.He was in a foul mood. The kind of mood that makes subordinates avoid eye contact and suddenly remember urgent tasks in rooms that are very far away.His team was waiting in the briefing room. Captain Marcus Webb sat at the head of the table, a grizzled forty five year old with a salt and pepper beard and the combat instincts of a wolf who had survived too many winters to be surprised by anything. His eyes tracked Brett the moment he walked through the door and read his mood in half a second.Beside Webb sat Hank “Bear” Rollins, a six foot six mountain of muscle with a shaved head and hands that looked like they had been borrowed from a construction ve
CHAPTER 232
“It means I can make people disappear. Legally.” Brett’s eyes were cold and flat, the eyes of a man who had said this to other men before and watched them fold. “Vivienne Ashford is not a woman for a penniless live in husband from a nobody family. She deserves someone with power, status, and purpose. Not a stray dog who got lucky.”Oh, he called you a stray dog, the Spirit said. How original. Your father called you a cockroach. Derek called you a worm. This guy’s going with dog. At least the insults are diversifying.What Brett didn’t know was that Ethan’s master was the senior brother of the Special Division’s commander. Technically, Ethan outranked every agent in the division by several tiers. Brett’s threats were like a mailroom clerk threatening the CEO’s son.“Are you done?” Ethan set his fork down and looked at Brett with the patient boredom of a man watching a child throw a tantrum in a grocery store.Brett’s jaw twitched. A vein in his temple pulsed. His hands gripped the tabl
CHAPTER 231
They were intercepted at the entrance to the dining room by a man who had clearly been waiting there since eleven o’clock, judging by the half empty water glass at the bar behind him.Brett Calloway was tall, athletic, and square jawed in the way that action movie posters require their heroes to be square jawed.He wore a tailored navy suit with a government issue confidence that bordered on arrogance and occasionally stepped over the border entirely. He was twenty nine, came from old money, and held the rank of Xuan level agent in the Special Division, the military’s secret supernatural enforcement wing.His smile when he saw Vivienne was the smile of a man who believed the universe owed him beautiful things.His smile when he saw Ethan’s arm linked with hers was the opposite.“Vivienne!” Brett stepped forward with his hand extended. “I reserved the table by the window. Best view in the house.”“Brett.” Vivienne’s voice was polite and flat and carried exactly zero warmth. “I didn’t k
CHAPTER 230
The next morning, Ethan woke up at Griffin Lake Manor in the king-sized bed with the Egyptian cotton sheets and the painted ceiling of Greek gods doing nothing productive.Mr. Hammond had left a breakfast tray on the bedside table with a handwritten note that said “Good morning, Master Morrison” in calligraphy so perfect it belonged in a museum.He checked his phone. Three missed calls from Vivienne Ashford. All between midnight and two in the morning. No voicemails because Vivienne was not the kind of woman who left voicemails. Vivienne was the kind of woman who called until you answered or showed up at your door.He called back. Vivienne answered on the first ring.“Ethan. I need a favor.” Her voice had its usual silky confidence, the voice of a woman who ran a billion dollar empire and made it look easy. But underneath it, there was something else. Annoyance, maybe. Or the specific frustration of a beautiful woman being chased by a man who couldn’t take a hint.“What kind of favor?
CHAPTER 229
Ethan caught the blade between two fingers. The metal stopped dead. Damon’s arm locked. His eyes went wide for the first time all night.Ethan snapped the blade in half and drove the broken hilt into Damon’s shoulder. The metal sank three inches into muscle. Damon roared. The sound was more animal than human, the sound of a predator realizing it had become prey.He swung the second blade in a desperate horizontal arc aimed at Ethan’s neck.Ethan caught his wrist. His fingers closed around the bones and squeezed until they gave way with a series of cracks that sounded like someone stepping on a bag of walnuts. The blade fell from Damon’s dead fingers and clattered on the pavement.Ethan threw him face first into the concrete. Damon’s chin bounced off the asphalt. Three teeth scattered across the road like white pebbles. Blood pooled under his face. His body tried to push up and failed.Ethan planted his foot on the assassin’s spine and pressed down with enough force to pin a tank. Damo
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