The Rise Of The Forgotten King.

Chapter 7

I rolled into Toronto just after midnight. It had just finished raining and the streets were shining. Every shadow felt alive to me as I looked out for any potential camera or cop car. I kept low, hugging the edges of buildings, eyes scanning constantly. Toronto at night had the charm of the wealthy and the danger of anyone who could ruin a plan in one wrong second.

The Royal York loomed ahead glowing like some fortress built for the rich. Its lights made it look untouchable, even from a block away. I circled the building twice, noting the guard shifts and the flow of traffic. Two uniformed men stepped out from a side door, radios crackling faintly and I ducked into the shadows. 

“Still running this place like a damn army.” I muttered.  

The side entrance gave me enough cover to blend in and I adjusted my disguise. The black blazer fitted over the plate carrier, and the beard hid my jawline. Confidence sells more than skill sometimes so I walked like I owned the hallway, letting the posture of someone who belonged distract anybody casually observing. 

At the front desk, the night clerk barely glanced up.

“Evening,” I said.

“Evening, sir,” he replied without looking up.

I moved toward the elevators, glancing at the guard scanning a clipboard. I gave him a short nod, a fake smile and slipped past. I surveyed the place and there was no sign of him so I left. 

By early evening, I parked a block away from the hotel and put my hood on. I waited until the hallway cleared and slipped inside under a guard disguise. 

The corridor was quiet, and my boots made minimal sound. Just as I took a bend, I saw a very familiar face. Sam “Knuckles” Drexler, a former colleague who covered my back in an operation years ago, stood with hands behind him. 

“Knuckles,” I called . 

He spun round, eyes narrowing. “Ghost?”

“Long time no see,” I said with a smirk.

But his fists came up. I sidestepped, ducked a swing, and rammed my shoulder into him, forcing him backward into the wall. “Didn’t expect to see me here?”

“Always in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he hissed.

I drove him down the hallway, trading blows. Fists and elbows landed hard but controlled, just enough to incapacitate without killing. He swung fast, but the years hadn’t dulled my instincts. I still remembered his weakness and one sharp kick to the ribs sent him down. He slumped and grabbed the keycard from his belt.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I muttered, slipping the keycard into my pocket.

As I walked further down the hallway, two guards loitering near the balcony caught my attention. They were chatting quietly, oblivious to the world beyond their conversation. I pressed myself against the corner, barely breathing, listening.

“I went to the boss room, but he wasn’t there. They said he moved to 1804 for tonight,” one said.

“I’m not surprised. With all the people streaming through, that keeps him far from reach of those low-class wannabes,” the other replied.

“Did you hear about the extra patrol in the west wing?”

That was enough. I had my foothold. Each step forward was deliberate, calculated, every motion measured so no one noticed me. My pulse had picked up, but I kept it under control, moving like a shadow across the carpet. The music from the ballroom below thumped faintly through the floor, masking the soft weight of my steps. I could almost see the path forming in my head—stairs, blind spots, timing. Every single thing was lining up.

Then a voice from behind made me freeze.

“Excuse me, sir,” it said, calm but insistent.

I stopped mid-step, every muscle tightening. For a split second, I debated running, slipping into the service hall, anything to avoid attention.

“Not now, please,” I muttered under my breath, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Can you tell me which contractor is handling the west wing today?”

I turned slowly, forcing my face into the bored expression people wear when they’re interrupted on the job. My mind raced, calculating the quickest lie that wouldn’t get me shot.

My mind instantly went blank. I hadn’t expected to be questioned, not this early, not by someone who clearly had a role in this building. My pulse hammered in my ears. Each second stretched like hours. I had no name, no plan for this, and I could feel the weight of her eyes. Shadows flickered under the overhead lights, and I had to force calmness into my voice.

“I… uh… I’ll… check on that,” I said, fumbling slightly, trying to sound casual while my brain scrambled for a lie.

She didn’t move, didn’t blink. Her gaze pinned me like a predator locking onto prey. “I’ll wait,” she said, the casual tone hiding the weight behind the words.

I swallowed hard, feeling the seconds slip away, knowing that the wrong answer or the slightest hesitation could blow everything open. My eyes flicked to the end of the hallway, calculating escape, timing, options… anything to buy myself a few precious seconds. 

Just then, her phone rang and she moved to a corner to pick it up. That was my cue, I turned around and hurried down the hall. 

Somewhere behind me, I knew the intern had hung up. Any second, someone might notice the service elevator doors moving, someone might glance down the hall, and Ghost would be forced into action.

The east wing stretched ahead and my boots made barely a sound on the thick carpet, each step measured. I paused near a service elevator and spotted a young room service attendant pushing a cart stacked with trays. He looked tired, eyes flicking over the hallway with that half alert, half bored expression all hotel staff wear.

“Need help with that?” I asked flashing some bills in front of him. 

He tried to protest but I beat him to it. “I know you need it, I said pushing it into his hand.”

 I could have easily hit him and pushed the tray away but I didn't intend to leave any trace. 

“Keep this quiet, and the tray goes where I need it.”

His eyes widened. “Uh… sure, sir,” he stammered with a smile as he saw how much it was. 

I gave him a nod and he hesitated for a moment before letting me pull a tray off the cart. I hid my glock underneath it and the table cloth hid it well. 

I tested the keycard in the service elevator and the door clicked open I slipped inside and instant scanned the interior confirming that there were no cameras inside the shaft. I pressed the button for Van Cleef’s floor. When the doors slid open, I stepped onto the floor and froze when I saw two guards. I adjusted my stance, took a deep breath and pushed the cart.

“Good evening,” I greeted as I pushed and thankfully, they didnt suspect a thing. Finally, I arrived at the suite and knocked the door softly, holding the tray in front of me.

“Room service,” I called out, keeping my voice calm. 

Seconds later, the door cracked open, and Van Cleef’s moved out of the way for me to come in. 

 “Hello, Van Cleef,” I said and removed the fake moustache in one smooth motion, letting my face fully reveal itself. “Long time no see.”