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CHAPTER 7: THE ART OF WAR

Auteur: Teena Chans
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2026-01-07 06:03:14

The silence in Grey’s living room was heavier than the darkness outside. The digital glow of the phone screen faded, leaving them in the dim amber light of a single floor lamp. Grey sat on the edge of the sofa, his head in his hands, the posture of a man whose reality had been dismantled brick by brick.

"My father," Grey murmured, his voice rough. "He borrowed money against client accounts to keep the firm afloat during the recession. He paid it back—every cent—before anyone noticed. But the paper trail exists." He looked up at Lisa, his eyes haunted. "If Tessy releases that, it’s not just a scandal. It’s disbarment. It’s fraud. It destroys his legacy and my future."

Lisa sat beside him, taking his cold hand in hers. "That’s why she waited," she reasoned, her mind working furiously. "She needed you desperate enough to sign, but she needed the blackmail in case you resisted. It’s a pincer move."

"I have to sign it, Lisa." Grey’s voice cracked. "I can’t let them destroy my dad’s name. I
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  • ALMOST PERFECT    CHAPTER 18: THE EYE OF THE BEACON

    The lighthouse door slammed shut with a hollow boom that echoed upward through the spiral spine of the tower. Grey threw his weight against it, fingers fumbling for the rusted iron bolt. It resisted for a heartbeat—then slid home just as something heavy crashed into the wood from the other side.The impact reverberated through the stone floor.“Locked,” Grey said, chest heaving. “For now.”Lisa stood a few feet away, pressed to the curved wall as if the lighthouse itself might steady her. Rain streamed from her hair, soaking into her clothes, dripping onto the ancient stone in uneven rhythms. The storm outside howled relentlessly, wind screaming through cracks in the structure while waves below shattered themselves against the rocks.The place felt alive...and hostile.The lighthouse interior rose in a narrow vertical column, shadows stacked on shadows. Old emergency lamps flickered weakly, casting sickly yellow light over peeling paint, rusted railings, and walls scarred by decades o

  • ALMOST PERFECT    CHAPTER 17: INTO THE STORM

    With the old map clutched tightly in his hand, Grey pushed open the cabin door and stepped out first, Lisa following closely behind. The sky overhead darkened, clouds rolling in from the west like a slow tide, casting an eerie gloom on the landscape. The distant rumble of thunder echoed, warning of the storm quickly approaching.“Let’s move fast,” Grey urged, glancing over his shoulder as they stepped onto the narrow fishing trail. It wound through the woods, overgrown but still passable, and every rustle of branches made them instinctively glance back, half-expecting Tessy’s men to appear at any moment.“Stay low,” Lisa whispered, her heart racing as they ducked beneath overhanging branches. “If they find us, we won’t have anywhere to run.”Grey nodded, his pulse quickening with every step taken on that isolated path. He could feel the weight of the plan pressing down on him–the stakes of their impending confrontation. The lighthouse stood tall in the distance, a beacon promising bot

  • ALMOST PERFECT    CHAPTER 16: THRESHOLDS

    The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a molten gold light across the industrial district. Grey and Lisa maneuvered through the remains of once-bustling warehouses, the dirt bike roaring beneath them, its engine a comforting heartbeat against the impending threat. Each twist of the throttle felt like pushing against fate, working to defy the deeper betrayals looming between them.“Left here!” Lisa shouted suddenly, leaning in as Grey maneuvered the bike sharply toward an old loading dock. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as they skidded to a stop. “We can use those crates for cover!”“Great idea,” Grey replied, urgency steadying his hands as he dropped the kickstand. Together, they hustled to the towering pile of crates, tossing them hurriedly against the door as distant voices began to rise around them. The oppressive weight of Tessy’s hired goons stretching out in the fading light settled heavily on their shoulders.The thundering footsteps grew ever closer. “They’re onto us,”

  • ALMOST PERFECT    CHAPTER 15: FRACTURED LINES

    The highway unspooled before them like a poorly drafted blueprint—endless, unyielding, with cracks hidden just beneath the surface. Grey kept the dirt bike at a steady throttle, weaving through sparse traffic as the sun climbed higher, turning the asphalt into a shimmering mirage. Lisa's arms remained locked around his waist, a mechanical embrace born of survival rather than solace. Every bump in the road jolted her against him, a reminder of the chasm that had opened between them: his bloodline, her trust, both shattered like glass underfoot.She hadn't spoken since the creek bed, her cheek pressed to his back in silence that screamed louder than any accusation. The wind tore at her hair, whipping strands across her face like errant pencil strokes, but it couldn't erase the ache in her chest—a deep, splintering hurt that made every breath feel like inhaling dust from a collapsed structure. Grey Moore. The name echoed in her mind, rewriting every memory: the first sketch in the worksh

  • ALMOST PERFECT    CHAPTER 14: THE ECHO IN THE EARTH

    The hatch rattled again, metal shivering under Tessy's amplified voice like a tooth grinding against bone. "I know you're down there, sketching your little rebellions. Open up, or I send the gas in first. We can talk civilized, or you can wake up in zip-ties."Grey's hand tightened on Lisa's, his pulse a staccato echo in the bunker's confines. The air down here was thick, recycled through vents that hummed like distant thunder, carrying the faint tang of rust and regret. Maya stood at the console, fingers dancing over keys, pulling up external cams: grainy feeds showed Tessy above, flanked by four tactical operatives, their rifles trained on the cabin floor. Smoke still curled from the breached door; the forest beyond was a green haze, indifferent to the standoff."No gas masks in here," Maya muttered, checking a supply crate. "She's bluffing…or hoping we panic."Lisa rose, releasing Grey's hand with a squeeze that said wait. Her voice was steady as she approached the intercom panel.

  • ALMOST PERFECT    CHAPTER 13: THE TRESTLE'S TEETH

    The van's rear doors slammed shut with a metallic finality, sealing Grey and Lisa inside a dim cavity that smelled of motor oil and stale takeout. Maya didn't wait for pleasantries; she floored the accelerator, the vehicle lurching over the rutted service road like a beast shaken awake. Through the barred rear window, Grey watched the trestle recede, its rusted beams gnawing at the sky. Lisa slumped against the wheel well, chest heaving, the indigo blanket clutched in mud-caked fists. Her eyes found Grey's in the half-light, still storm-lit but softening at the edges. "That was close," she said, voice hoarse from the run. "Too close."He nodded, shifting to sit beside her, their shoulders pressing together in the swaying confines. "Tessy's not done. That sniper bluff—she's testing boundaries, seeing how far we'll push before we break."Maya's laugh was humorless: "Boundaries? Honey, we're way past those. Tessy's got friends in every colour. Right now you're wearing her least favourit

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