2025-07-07 07:10:52The figure’s head tilted, just a little. “You will be given missions. Tasks to help you pay off your debt. If you do well, you will be rewarded. If you fail, there will be consequences. Once your debt is cleared, you will have a choice. You can renew your contract and work for us... or you can walk away and return to your old life.”
The words sank in like cold water.
Missions. Tasks. Rewards. Consequences.
It sounded more like a trap than an offer. But Shepherd knew the truth. He had no way out. Not yet.
His fingers curled into a tight fist.
“I’ll do it,” he said quietly.
The figure gave a small nod. Not surprised. Almost like he had expected Shepherd to say yes.
“Training will begin soon,” the man said. “You will be taught how to serve the Syndicate. You must understand the work before you are sent into the field.”
Shepherd gave a small nod, even though his stomach twisted. He did not know what they planned for him. He did not know what kind of world he was stepping into. But none of that mattered.
Zoya was alive.
That was all that mattered.
And soon, he would have his revenge.
They led him into a smaller room after that. The lights were dim. The walls were smooth and gray. A narrow bed sat in the corner, next to a small cabinet. There was nothing else. No window. No clock. Just silence.
The door closed behind him.
He was alone.
He sat himself on the bed, but his thoughts were louder than ever. They smashed within him like waves. Zoya. Arielle. Darion. The betrayal. The Syndicate.
All was different.
The room was cage-like but the metal doors and walls were not the worst part. It was the truth. He had been saved at the cost of his freedom.
He shut his eyes and heard the gentle buzz of the machines about him. He drew a long breath. His body was recovering. Now he had good vision. More powerful than ever. The hollowness was acute, however, within.
The Syndicate had made him live. They had also given Zoya a second chance.
Nothing was free though.
His mind drew him away. To his former life. Life before the Syndicate. Life before Arielle. Life before everything took the worst turn.
To the day he met her.
Zoya.
They were both foster children who lived in different homes. Not homes built from love,Just dumping grounds for unwanted children until someone thought about them. The majority never did.
Shepherd did not even know his parents. They had died when he was a baby. Nobody explained to him how. Nobody even provided him with pictures. Just files. Nothing but words in a report. He was taken from one house to another, like a suitcase without a tag.
He recalled the Wilsons. They were nice, but their home reeked of medicine and rotten food. It was not a place where a child could develop. It was simply silent. Too quiet.
And then there were other houses. More faces. Some nice. Most tired.
Then the third home.
There was where he found her.
Zoya.
She was only twelve . Her hair was red like fire and always tied to the back of her head in a tight bun. Her hazel eyes and long dark eyelashes were a sharp contrast to her fiery hair.She was a calm child. Never angry, only watchful. She did not speak to anyone she didn't trust.
But Shepherd saw it. The fire in her. The strength.
She had lost her parents in a car crash. She had been tossed into the system like him. But she never let it break her.
The family had tried to tame her. Get her to be their perfect daughter . But Zoya never listened. She had walls built high, and no one could climb them. No one except Shepherd.
He sat with her every day. Shared food with her. Gave her space when she needed it. And little by little, the walls came down.
They became family. Not because the system said so. Because they chose each other.
They protected each other.
They grew up side by side. Went through school together. Worked small jobs. Laughed, fought, survived.
But life was never easy. Especially when Zoya’s health began to fail. Her heart was weak. She grew tired faster. Some days she could not even stand without help.
He was in his second year of college when she had experienced her second attack. That call had shattered his entire universe. He couldn't believe that she had been suffering all by herself while she had been helping him chase his dreams to become a chemical engineer.
That cold winter night seeing her hooked to those wires struggling to stay alive. Shepherd had promised never to leave her again. He never went back to college. He had instead taken up jobs to take care of her.
Shepherd remembered the nights he had to stay awake, just to listen to her breathing. To make sure she made it to morning.
He had made a promise.And he wanted to keep it.
But promises were hard to keep in a world that gave you nothing.
He had no education. No future. No power. Just grit. Just pain. Just survival.
So when the Syndicate reached out and offered help, he took it.
Not for himself.
For her.
And now, he owed them everything. His life. His body. His freedom.And Zoyas
He sat in the cold room, hands clenched, chest heavy.
“I won’t let you down again, Zoya,” he whispered.
His eyes were closed, but tears still burned the corners.
His voice was soft. It was barely a breath. But it was a vow.
And he meant every word.
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CHAPTER 11: THE GALA
Morning crawled in gray through the blinds, dust drifting in the stale air of Shepherd’s apartment. He sat on the edge of the bed with the unopened envelope on the table, staring at it like it was a snake waiting to strike. His fingers itched to tear it open, but his chest tightened each time he reached for it.He thought about Zoya. Her thin smile, the way her voice still shook when she tried to sound strong. He wondered if she’d know—if she could look at him and see the blood on his hands. He told himself he was doing it for her, that the debt was a chain he had to cut for her sake. It sounded noble in his head. In his chest it sounded like a lie.The system pulsed faintly, a line of static brushing the edge of his mind, as if it was waiting for him to slip. He shoved the thought away, stood, and finally picked up the envelope.---By nightfall, the bar looked the same as always—bottles glowing under the lights, laughter spilling from a corner booth, the thump of bass shaking dust o
CHAPTER 10 : A New Era
The city was wide awake—horns blaring, somebody laughing too loud on the next street, a siren cutting across the skyline—but Shepherd sat in the dead quiet of his bar as though none of it existed. His whiskey had gone warm in his hand. He turned the glass again and again, watching the faint light catch in it. A drink was supposed to take the edge off. Instead it only made the edges sharper.He kept hearing the shot. Not the gun itself—that was gone in an instant—but the way the man’s head snapped forward, the breath leaving him like a secret being forced out. Shepherd had thought there’d be something after. Regret maybe. Nausea. Relief. But there was nothing except a kind of hollow weight pressing down in his chest.The door opened. He didn’t lift his eyes. The steps told him enough—measured, heavy, like the man owned the air he was breathing.The Syndicate’s handler slid onto the stool across from him, suit too crisp for this place, cologne curling in the stale air. “Clean work,” the
Chapter 9: The Ghost system
It had been a few weeks since Shepherd had settled into his new life. The Syndicate had kept their word, giving him anonymity, a routine, and assignments that kept him occupied—tasks that were simple but full of subtle testing.The bar became his cover. It was in the heart of the city, tucked between towering buildings and crowded streets, yet it was bland enough for him to blend in. He worked long shifts, wiping down glasses, serving drinks, listening to the chatter of the patrons, each of them oblivious to the man who stood behind the counter, pouring their drinks.But even in the mundanity of it all, his senses were sharpened. He observed everything—the way people interacted, the small tells in their movements, the words they didn’t say. His cognitive sight was like a second instinct, and it allowed him to pick up things others wouldn’t notice. A drink lingering too long on the counter. A hand nervously tapping against the table. The glance exchanged between two men seated at a bac
Chapter 8: The First Mission
The room was softly blue, the shadows falling across his face sharp. His eyes read the map leisurely. Veins of lines crossed the digital surface. Routes. Entry points. Hidden markers. He could sense them. Not merely to see them--but to feel them throbbing with significanceShepherd was in front of the map that was glowing.“The mission is clear,” the figure said, his voice chilling. “Get in, get the Ember Bloom. Bring it back.”“Why this one?” Shepherd asked, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Why this plant?”The figure didn’t hesitate. “Because it’s vital for our next sequence. A plant like the Ember Bloom could change everything for us.”“Right,” Shepherd muttered, not satisfied with the answer. But he didn’t push. The Syndicate never gave answers unless they had to.The map zoomed in, focusing on the mountain facility buried in the heart of Eastern Europe. Shepherd had already studied the layout, memorizing every detail, every guard shift. This was his first mission and he had to make
Chapter 7 : The training ground
Shepherd remained on the middle mat.The ground under his feet was solid, yet his heart was beating louder than anything. His hands were bound. His arms were covered with sweat. The shirt was stuck to his back. The morning had been a drilling time, and now the actual test had arrived.His teacher turned to him.Tall. Masked. Calm. The man made every movement sharp and clean. As a knife that had been whetted by years of silent war.Think not, said the man. His voice was like steel. “Trust your instincts”Shepherd nodded.He drew a breath.Then another.He needed to pass this training. The Syndicate had assured him power. Control.Zoya’s wellbeing and Revenge.And that was his new purpose.The initial attack was quick.Too fast.A hand was swung at his face and cut through the air. The elbow of his instructor came next, to his jaw. Most would have blinked too slow to notice it. However, Shepherd was no longer like most people.He foresaw it before it actually occurred.Not only the punch.
Chapter 6: The price of salvation
The figure’s head tilted, just a little. “You will be given missions. Tasks to help you pay off your debt. If you do well, you will be rewarded. If you fail, there will be consequences. Once your debt is cleared, you will have a choice. You can renew your contract and work for us... or you can walk away and return to your old life.”The words sank in like cold water.Missions. Tasks. Rewards. Consequences.It sounded more like a trap than an offer. But Shepherd knew the truth. He had no way out. Not yet.His fingers curled into a tight fist.“I’ll do it,” he said quietly.The figure gave a small nod. Not surprised. Almost like he had expected Shepherd to say yes.“Training will begin soon,” the man said. “You will be taught how to serve the Syndicate. You must understand the work before you are sent into the field.”Shepherd gave a small nod, even though his stomach twisted. He did not know what they planned for him. He did not know what kind of world he was stepping into. But none of
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