FOR HER SAKE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

Amelia’s POVThe next few days after the dock incident was shit, simply put. I had tried to talk to Kelvin and for the most of it, all I received were lukewarm shoulders. Like, he’d listen to what I was saying but gave no valuable response. He looked out for me and put me way too far away from harm’s way and somehow, he was harm’s way. Vasquez had been oddly silent for someone who had tried to kill us and that made me wonder more about whomever it was that Gabriel and Kelvin knew about.Gabriel had somehow gone back to his normal ways of being a buzzing bee around my ears.We heard from Ricardo, which was beautiful, but he said he was never abducted or harmed, just unable to get the phone. He also mentioned that the photo sent was from far back and his wristwatch had gotten missing a while ago. It was hard to hear what he was saying clearly because of the static, was what Mateo said, and that he was on his way home. It was enough to make Ruby get up and be hooman again after a few d

Third Person’s POVLeona noticed him long before he said anything.It was obvious that he thought he was a man that was subtle, perhaps, a kind of man who believed that leaning against a wall made him invisible. To Leona though, he was just a dumb man.Because he was so damn quiet, it seemed to be the only sound that filled the room and that made him so damn loud. He stood still with military gait and even though he wasn’t watching her, she was sure that he was assessing her.Which again, she thought was dumb because she was not the kind of person to give away her habits during work.She’d been at Amelia’s office for less than forty-eight hours and already had a shadow on her. It would’ve been flattering if it wasn’t so annoying.By the time she turned from her laptop, she was half smiling, half seething inside. “You know,” she said, her tone light between her teeth, “if you’re going to stalk and watch over me like a hawk, you can at least bring me coffee.”The man blinked, caught bet

Third Person’s POVRoutine was how she usually survived the chaos that went on twenty-four seven in her head.That morning, Leona had her laptop open by six, her fingers steady, her screen divided into neat grids of movement and metadata. Each column linked Vasquez’s operations, shipments, payments, ledger trails, a whole web of corruption, mapped and named in color-coded precision.For her, this was an order. It was the only language that still made sense.But then, in the middle of her calm, the system blinked red.Unauthorized access detected.She froze, watching as the IP pinged from within the city, the same encrypted path she’d left open, the digital breadcrumb no one was supposed to touch except one particular idiot with too much curiosity and not enough patience.Gabriel.A humorless smile curved her lips. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, wolf?She leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee like nothing was wrong, but her pulse thrummed with something between irri

Kelvin’s POVI used to believe the silence meant peace. Now that I think about it, it was probably because my father had yelled a lot when I was little and it had always been terrifying. Also that whenever he left and it was just I and my mom, life became brighter and less constrained. Then,I had grown with that, that if my father wasn’t calling, if Rafael wasn’t visiting, if nobody was breathing down my neck, then maybe, for just a damn second, I could exist without being someone’s pawn or being in any trouble.Turns out, as I was starting to realize more and more these days, silence just means the storm’s catching its breath.The past few days had been a blur of tension. My father’s men had been in and out of the house like clockwork, carrying folders, hushed calls, coded messages I was never supposed to hear. And then Rafael started showing up again, smiling too easily around me, making sinister chides that I just ignored all together, the way people do when they’re measuring how

Leona’s POVThe office was a different animal after midnight. Fluorescent lights turned the glass into mirrors; the city outside looked like a smear of sodium paint and careless stars. My headphones were on, volume low enough to let me hear the hum of the building and the small sounds that tell you someone else is alive, the chime of an elevator bell, a late taxi, the distant bark of a dog. For the most of it though, it was just me and the screen and that was enough for me.I’d promised I’d put a hard stop at ten. That promise evaporated around eleven-thirty when I cracked open the third encrypted archive Amelia’s files had thrown up last week. It wasn’t that the code was uniquely elegant, lots of money-laundering code is sloppy and indecently efficient, but there was a particular pattern in the padding that made my teeth itch. Whistleblower signatures leave traces. People who try to hide the truth rarely do it with the same hands as those who tried to expose it.By one in the mornin