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Chapter 56 – The Vanguard
publish date:
2026-03-25 15:14:48
Latest chapter
Cracking His Code Chapter 84 – Release
KirButcher dumps his empty shotgun shells on the kitchen counter to be disposed of later. They scatter across the cheap laminate with a harsh clatter. I ignore the noise. I strip the tactical vest off my shoulders and drop it on the couch.My black shirt is glued to my spine with sweat.Oliver is nowhere to be seen and I already know he’s waiting for me in our bedroom. In spite of his false bravado last night about not allowing me to touch him when I get back."Drives are clear," Chana informs me. "The accounts are zeroed out. The money is gone.""Good work," I say.We can all retire today if we wanted to. We’ve made more money off these four hits than in our entire careers before this. Ironically it’s not about the money this time. It’s about the principle. About ridding the world of child molesters and rapists.We won’t stop until we’ve accomplished what we set out to do. But that’s not where my mind is at right now. My mind is on a beautiful brat with blue eyes and wild blond h
Cracking His Code Chapter 83 – The Breach
Oliver The air in the living room is thick enough to chew. The window unit gave up trying to cool the space two hours ago, and now it just spits lukewarm, humid air at the back of my neck.I sit at the table, staring at six different monitors. My headset is clamped over my ears.Between my legs, the ache is a low, continuous burn.I barely slept last night. I lay on the sagging mattress for hours, strung tight, replaying Kir’s voice in my head. You are going to wait. Until Diego Vargas is dead. Every time I shifted, my cock rubbed against my boxers or the mattress, sending a fresh spike of heat straight up my spine. It was absolute torture. I loved it. I hated him for it. I wanted to strangle him, and I wanted him to pin my wrists to the floor and tease me until I couldn’t hold back anymore.I shift my weight on the chair for the hundredth time, trying to find a more comfortable position.Chana looks up from across the table, irritation written all over her face."You’re extra t
Cracking His Code Chapter 82 – Terms
KirI finish the tactical brief in under four minutes.Nobody brings up Tariq. Nobody looks at the hallway where I sent Oliver. Max studies the topographical map. Butcher cleans his fingernails with the tip of a combat knife, which is a habit I’ve told him repeatedly to stop, but I ignore it today. Saint packs the cellular bridge drive into the hard-shell casing of his tactical vest."We hit the gate at exactly fourteen-hundred hours tomorrow," I tell them. "Oba and Jozef will have the truck loaded by noon."I leave them at the table and walk down the narrow hallway.The door to the bedroom is cracked open two inches. I push it the rest of the way.Oliver is sitting exactly where I told him to sit. He’s perched on the very edge of the mattress, hands placed flat on his thighs. The denim of his jeans is pulled tight across his lap, outlining the ridge of his erection. He’s breathing through his nose in slow, measured drags.The sight of him actually stops me in the doorway for
Cracking His Code Chapter 81 – Back to Work
Oliver The walk from the bedroom to the kitchen is an exercise in agonizing friction.Every time my right leg moves forward, the zipper of my jeans drags directly across my painfully hard cock. My abs are tight. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth. My entire nervous system is vibrating like a struck tuning fork, suspended in a state of unfulfilled need.Kir walks three steps ahead of me down the narrow hallway. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The smugness radiating off the man is practically a physical object taking up space in the corridor.The team is already gathered around a scratched formica dining table. Saint is leaning over a tablet, his long fingers expanding a satellite view of the Vargas ranch. Oba stands by the sink, arms crossed, looking entirely too well-dressed for a grimy South American safe-house. His dark skin glowing beautifully against the snowy white button-up he’s wearing.Max sits at the far end of the table, methodically chewing his way through
Cracking His Code Chapter 80 – Kneel
OliverThe air conditioning unit in the Buenos Aires safe-house rattles like a dying engine. It does a terrible job of cutting the South American humidity.I’m lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My tablet is heavy on my chest.I’m angry. I’ve been angry since we landed three hours ago, dragging our gear through a grimy transit hub and piling into a transport van. I’m not angry at the team. They’re currently down the hall in the kitchen, talking smack and eating lukewarm empanadas. I’m angry at myself.The closet in Antibes ruined my entire worldview.I dropped to my knees on that hardwood floor, and my brain shut up. Twenty-four years of Blaese-bred arrogance, all my carefully constructed defense mechanisms, totally dismantled by gravity and Kir’s hand on the back of my head. It didn't make me feel small. That’s the thing that’s really messing with my head. It made me feel invincible. The chaos dialed down to zero.I hate how much I want to do it again.My pride is stagin
Cracking His Code Chapter 79 – Possessive Fallout
KirThe charter flight to Buenos Aires is twelve hours long. The Gulfstream cabin is loud. The engines generate a persistent, high-frequency whine that drills directly into the cartilage of my ears.I hate planes. I hate being sealed in a metal tube over the Atlantic with no tactical exit. Usually, I spend these flights scanning the manifest, cleaning a sidearm, or glaring at the bulkhead until we hit the tarmac.Today is different.Oliver is asleep against my shoulder.He’s wearing my black hoodie. It’s big enough to swallow his narrow frame. The thick cotton bunches around his neck. He has his knees pulled up to his chest in the wide leather seat next to mine. His head rests squarely on my bicep.Before the cellar, I would have forced him to sit across the aisle. I would have put Ray or Saint between us. I would have spent the entire flight watching him out of the corner of my eye, irritable and tense, pretending I didn’t care who he talked to.I don’t have to pretend anymore.
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