บททั้งหมดของ THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA : บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

AARONThe city lights shimmer outside my window. But all I see is Mia. Her laugh, the way her green eyes crinkle at the corners, and the delicate scent of her skin that still lingers in my memory. My fingers twitch, the urge to reach for my phone, but I stop myself. My thumb hovers over her contact, the name a silent plea on the screen. Meeting up with Mia now is like putting a target on her, a flashing sign screaming 'vulnerability' to my grandfather. And I can’t, I won't risk that. Not now. Not ever. I can’t give him that pleasure.A sharp buzz from my phone shatters the quiet, pulling me back from the precipice of dangerous longing. I glance down. ‘Vee’ flashes across the screen. My brow furrows. Vee, leader of the Vikings, one of the top five mafia groups, rarely calls me directly. She’s a strong woman in her forties, sharp as a whip and colder than a winter storm. She respects power and uses it. A call from her usually means business, or a warning shot fired across allied lines,

NATALIE The scent of paint that usually calms my nerves feels like poison to me now. I clean out the used paint brushes in annoyance. My uncle has a way of getting free labour from me. My uncle hums tunelessly by the register, counting the day’s meager earnings. His body sways comically, and I wonder what exactly makes him happy all the time. His slightly grey hair, usually meticulously combed, is disheveled, proof of a day spent wrestling with canvases and confused customers. He catches my eye and offers a tired but genuine smile. “Almost done, Nat. Then we can finally get some of that awful takeout you like.”I return his smile, a warmth spreading through me. “It’s not awful. You just have bad taste buds.” I finish cleaning a glass cabinet, the reflection of my face staring back at me. A girl I can barely recognize these days.Just as I’m about to reach for the next shelf, my phone vibrates in my pocket. The sudden buzz jolts me, a sharp contrast to the gentle rhythm of the shop.

MIAAs I walk into Lasers, I am greeted by the company's business. I say a few hellos, but my mind is consumed by thoughts of my father. I head to Mr. Wilson’s office, and he looks at me in distaste. Barely a second later, he starts rambling on about needing new information, but I can't seem to focus on his words.I decided to take a chance and ask him about my real father, Liam Conall. He was a gang member and is dead, but I know very little about him. Mr. Wilson looks at me suspiciously, but then nods, agreeing to help which is surprising.He tells me that the news about Conall was popular when he was still an upcoming journalist. My heart races as I listen to him, hoping to find out more about the man I never knew."What kind of man was Liam Conall?" I ask nervously.Mr. Wilson shrugs and says, "He was wanted by the FBI for the longest time, but the last straw was when Conall murdered a police officer and his wife in their home."My heart sinks as I process his words. I didn't know

NATALIEThen, there it is. A name, buried deep within a declassified file I shouldn’t even have access to. A name that’s been ringing in my head over and over for days. Liam Conall.The document details a massive federal drug trafficking investigation. My father, a man I remember only in broken memories, is listed as the chief investigating officer. And the target? The Ash Mafia. My breath hitches. My eyes scan further, consuming every word. The case was on the brink of a breakthrough, a mole within the organization ready to turn state’s evidence, when suddenly, the entire task force was compromised. The mole disappeared. The lead officers, including my father, were pulled from the case. And weeks later, my parents were gone. Two simple gunshots, the official report had claimed, a tragic event that left a gaping, unfilled hole in my six-year-old world.It wasn’t just a random murder but a planned one. My father, the chief officer on a case against the Ash mafia, specifically a drug c

MIAI push my chair back from my desk. My back is still from sitting at a spot for hours. All I can focus on for days was the revelation of my father’s identity; a killer. A police officer. And his wife. The brutality of it sends a chill through me that has nothing to do with the office’s cold temperature and Wilson’s plans to freeze the both of us to death . My father. A killer. The word echoes in the back of my mind, loud and persistent.Every day since, I’ve been meticulously, obsessively, going through the cold cases in our archive. Lasers has a number of reports concerning the murder but it just isn’t enough. I’ve spent countless hours going through the reports over and over again. Even Mr Wilson is shocked at the amount of time Ive dedicated into it. Thankfully he never really asked the reason.But finding the overall details of Liam Conall’s criminal life isn’t enough. I need specifics. I need to understand that particular crime, the one that stained my father’s name with inno