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Ash and Dust
publish date:
2026-06-21 02:25:16
LunarPenLet’s be real, a "faulty gas main" is the understatement of the century. Victoria doesn't even have time to mourn her favorite club before the chaos drags her right back in. Salvatore better hold on tight, because things are about to get sub-zero. Thoughts on the chapter? Let me know below! 👇
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Bruce scrambled over, quickly handing Giordano the wireless earpiece. Giordano took his place in front of the lens, his posture instantly shifting from a battered survivor to a perfectly composed, flawless tech mogul as the digital countdown on the screen hit zero.The rotating blue crest of the Nordic Defense Council vanished, replaced by a split-screen matrix of four high-ranking ministers sitting in windowless briefing rooms across Europe."Salvatore," Minister Vance grunted, his image broadcasting from a secure bunker in Oslo. "You’re late. The cryptographic handshake was scheduled for twelve minutes ago. We were about to flag your terminal as compromised.""An infrastructure glitch at the Zurich data center," Giordano said, his voice smooth, authoritative, and completely devoid of the strain ripping through his ribs. He didn't blink, his face a flawless mask of corporate arrogance. "The localized fire wall took a minor hit during a routine server migration. It's handled. The encr
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With a sharp wave, Vance turned around and told her men to clear the perimeter, look for survivors, and get their statements. Just as she took another step, she looked over her shoulder and told Victoria that she had to go to the station to drop her statement. Without waiting for Victoria to reply, Vance left. Victoria scowled as she watched the captain's back. She turned to face a bald bouncer standing near the rubble and jerked her chin toward the street. "Go with Vance. Drop the statement. Keep it simple, keep it legal, and don't tell them a damn thing." The man nodded, his face blank. "Yes, boss." With that, he turned and walked toward the police line. Victoria wiped a thick layer of gray dust off her outfit, her chest tightening as she looked back at the smoking ruins of Aces and Ales. Her fingers curled into tight fists. She gritted her teeth, the fury boiling right behind her eyes. When she found out who was responsible for this mess, when she found the person who da
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The world came back in raw pieces. Dirt, rocks, and the chemical sting of burning plastic. Victoria coughed hard, a violent hack that brought up black soot from her throat. She rolled onto her side on the wet asphalt, her palms scraping raw against the glass-littered ground. Her head was pounding with a loud, ringing noise that made it hard to think. "Fuck," Giordano muttered nearby. He was on his knees, clutching his left side. His chest was covered in black grime, and blood was leaking through his fingers from a deep cut across his ribs. A piece of flying metal had caught him during the scramble up the stairs. "Fuck. That was no gas leak." "Shut up," Victoria choked out, pushing herself into a sit. Her dark robe was torn to shreds at the bottom, soaked in dirty water and ash. She looked toward the front of the alley. Aces and Ales was gone. The entire building was just a hollow shell throwing thick orange flames and heavy black smoke into the gray morning air. The blast had shat
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Giordano let out a groan as his eyes fluttered open. His surroundings didn’t look like the expensive lounge of the Aces and Ales bar, nor did they resemble the glaring red of the high-security EMP vault. Instead, the room was stripped bare, cast in a suffocating, low-voltage darkness that smelled heavily of rust, damp concrete, and stagnant water. It was a glorified dungeon, and he was the center attraction. "Finally," Victoria’s taunting voice rang out from the shadows, dripping with a cold, dangerous amusement. "I was starting to think you were going to remain unconscious forever, Salvatore. And I really hate wasting a good interrogation on a sleeping man. It completely ruins the vibe." Giordano twitched his left eye, a sharp, blinding throb radiating straight from the back of his skull down to his jaw. He tried to shift his weight, but the unforgiving bite of leather bindings anchored his wrists securely behind a rusted industrial chair. His shirt was missing, the freezi
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