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ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 168
Última atualização:
2025-11-10 22:16:17
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ALMS TO LOVE ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 169
The storm outside Makati had not yet broken, but the air already smelled of thunder.On the television screens across the estate, the headlines ran like prophecy:“BRENN TAYLOR CAPTURED IN LONDON—INTERNATIONAL WARRANT EXECUTED.”“MARIE DRAMS UNDER CUSTODY—NO BAIL RECOMMENDED.”Inside the Billion estate’s war room, silence reigned. The air hummed with static and vindication. Every light from the monitors glowed across faces that had waited too long for justice.Ramon leaned against the table, his voice low, clipped. “It’s done. Brenn’s been extradited from Heathrow. London Police and Interpol executed at 3:47 a.m. local. He didn’t resist—he knows it’s over.”Jamaica Billion did not smile. Her cane clicked against marble once, like the echo of a gavel. “And the woman who unleashed him?”Valeria adjusted her glasses, reading from her phone. &ldq
ALMS TO LOVE ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 168
No cheers. Only the soft sound of breath. It was the right tone—iron without cruelty.Ramon's voice came over the secure line, taut and efficient. "He's not small-time. He has layers-lawyers, shells, men who'll try to buy time. Trace the accounts. Freeze them. Notify Interpol. A takedown is in process."“So get it done,” Jamaica said. Her cane tapped twice on the console in a staccato that felt like punctuation. “I want every conduit severed.”They moved like a machine with a thirst for fact. Legal teams in Makati wrote letters; Valeria coordinated with London's counsel; Ramon's techs dove into server logs with Jose at their side, the analyst who could read a missing heartbeat in a data packet. They pulled ledgers, mirrored images of drives, hashed evidence into immutable files. Each procedure was a lock, and they clicked in sequence.“Prague’s already turned over the server logs,” Jose said, voice taut with that triumph-smell of caffeine. He jacked a drive into the air like a trophy
ALMS TO LOVE ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 167
They moved like predators and accountants at once: Ramon's men in black, Valeria's legal team in soft shoes, and a phalanx of analysts who read the world in packets and timestamps. The Billion house had become a command center, its maps and live feeds plastered to walls, halos of monitor light painting everyone's faces the color of surveillance."Show me the trail," Madam Jamaica said, her voice an icicle. She did not sit. She could not. The house she'd built thrummed with alertness around her.Ramon pulled up the chain on a screen: a fat river of transactions, time stamps, and IP hops. "They moved money through three jurisdictions," he said. "Cayman, Malta, Cyprus. Then into a Cypriot holding shell that funnels through a boutique firm in Prague. The data route bounces through a farm outside Prague before it hits a cache in London. That's our lever."Valeria leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "So Brenn thinks he's inscrutable. He's not. We trace the proxies, we freeze the accounts
ALMS TO LOVE ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 166
Silence snapped like wire across the secure line. For a moment, the only sound was the soft, uneven breathing of the room—Fiona's still shakily steady; Liza's finally drifting into the thin safety of sleep; Charles's a ragged anchor beside them. Then Jamaica hung up, cane tapping the floor in a slow controlled rhythm that felt like a countdown.“We close every gap,” she said. “No surprise, no mercy.”They moved with the economy of people who'd learned how to turn rage into instruments.Ramon ran the operation like a chess master. The van had been tracked-temporary plates, false refuels, a courier account that had been paid in cash at several stations. But the men who'd thought themselves invisible had left fingerprints the way old men leave their names on ledgers: sloppy, inevitable. Phone towers, petty vendors, and CCTVs from a sleepy sari-sari store gave Ramon threads, and threads made a map.“Brenn’s proxies routed payments through three jurisdictions—Cayman, then Malta, then a hol
ALMS TO LOVE ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 165
A small kid—half tremble, half bravado, eyes too old for his face—pointed with a shaking finger toward a dark corner stacked with pallets. “They’re there,” he croaked.They moved like a single organism: two men angled left, a woman operative swept low to the floor and a pair of boots landed as someone kicked away an oil-stained tarp. Light slashed across the concrete and for a second the world held its breath.Fiona’s heart exploded into a thousand hot pieces when her outline blurred into the wash of flashlights. Someone’s voice—Ramon’s—barked orders; the men in black snapped into positions around the room. Then, impossibly, Marie Drams stepped forward from the knot of shadows, closer than Fiona expected, a look on her face like a living wound.“Do you think they’ll find you?!” Marie screamed, each word a serrated thing. “Before they do, I’ll make sure you die!” She slapped
ALMS TO LOVE ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 164
One of the kidnappers, masked and curt, ignored her: "You'll get instructions soon.""Instructions? From who?" Fiona demanded, her voice shaking with anger.He didn't answer. Instead, he pushed them inside a warehouse, locking the rusted gate behind them.Inside was darkness and mildew. A chair. A single camera blinking red in the corner.Then, the sound came—metallic, faraway. The click of a live video connection.The camera light steadied.And somewhere elsewhere in the city, Marie Drams watched from her laptop.In the mirror, her reflection shimmered over that of Fiona and her crying daughter.And then Marie's lips curved, not in joy, but in deep, twisted satisfaction from power reclaimed.“They took my child,” she whispered, her voice like a blade, “so now they’ll learn what it feels like.”Her phone buzzed—R’s voice on the other end. “They’re secured
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