로그인“Mr. Oakley, there is something you need to understand. The people sitting on this case are not mere people, and Mr Lotto is the key to unraveling this mess.”Hayden could still hear Colonel Harrow’s voice in his head as his driver drove into his estate.For the first time in days, he felt hope.The Department of Defense had actually been digging into Operation Nightfall. And because the people involved held immense political leverage, they hadn't been able to intervene until they had all the facts straight.Now that they did, Jared was paramount to closing the whole thing.While that reality meant Jared was in heightened danger, it also meant something far greater to Hayden: Ja
Jared pressed his foot flat against the gas pedal, pushing the beat-up truck he had bought off a man in the parking lot of the dive bar past its limits.The sniper had not known the exact location of Troy’s base, but he had given enough specific landmarks for Jared to narrow the radius down to an industrial sector just across the state border.He wasn’t proud of the measures he had to use to make the young man spill the truth. But when it came to choosing between protecting his family or holding back against strangers who meant them harm, he did not give a damn.For the first time in weeks, he had a tangible destination.Yet, despite the faint triumph, a persistent itch remained at the back of his mind.His mind k
Heading back downstairs, she met Ambrose, their deputy head of security, waiting for them in the main foyer.“Ma’am, is everything alright?” he asked, his voice cautious.“I need to leave the estate for a few hours,” Myla informed him. “Colette’s niece is having some problems, and we need to check on her.”His expression immediately became serious. “Respectfully, orders were clear—"“I’ve already sent Hayden a message, and Beck is asleep, so I don’t want anyone waking him." Myla cut him off with calm authority. "I’m not asking for permission. We are taking the helicopter. And I want a full detail ready at the landing zone."Ambrose hesitated, conflicted."Very well, ma
Myla sat in her home office, her hands trembling slightly as she poured herself a glass of water.She missed Jared with a deep, physical ache that sat heavily in her chest. Every time she walked past his office or saw his empty spot on the bed, a suffocating wave of grief threatened to pull her under.“Don’t think about it,” she muttered to herself firmly, closing her eyes and taking three slow, deliberate breaths. “It's bad for the baby.”She opened her pill organizer, taking out her daily prenatal multivitamins and prescribed system stabilizers. The doctor had been clear: stress was her biggest threat right now.She rested a hand over her stomach. The tiny life inside her had become the one thing she refused to let
Jared pressed his back against the truck as he calculated his next move, his breathing slow despite the adrenaline pounding through his veins.He knew better than to make a blind dash across open ground. Against an elevated marksman, even an inexperienced one, running wildly was just an easy way to get a bullet in the back. He needed to locate the precise firing position before thinking about making an offensive move.He peered up at the windows of the car in front of him, using their reflections to survey the elevated structures behind him.There were too many possible positions: rooftops, windows, a mall, fire escapes…He paused on the multi-story parking garage and narrowed his eyes. That was the most likely position.It was high enough for a clean angle, close enough to maintain accuracy, and most importantly, it gave the shooter multiple escape routes.But he still needed confirmation.Slowly, he pulled off his jacket, making sure to make no sudden movement, then raised it just
Jared sat alone in a sticky booth in the back corner of the dive bar where he could watch the entrance, swirling the lukewarm beer left in his bottle.He had stopped at this rundown watering hole on the outskirts of the city solely because it was the kind of shady joint where everyone minded their own business. No working cameras, curious patrons or staff, nor unnecessary conversations.The pain in his jaw and split knuckles reminded him of the attack he had survived at his previous motel the night before. At first, he’d assumed they were Troy’s hitmen. But the moment the brawl started, he knew something was off.The way the men had moved in fluid formation, covering each other’s blind spots and communicating through silent hand signals... made him know he was dealing with a trained team fast.He had survived only because a motel staff member had knocked at the perfect time, causing a distraction that gave him the upper hand. What bothered him the most wasn’t how clean of any trace







