All Chapters of Whispers of Loyalty: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

ZACHSome ghosts wear skin. Some walk like they survived the fire.But me? I am the fire. And tonight, I’m about to burn down whatever’s left of the past that tried to bury me.Delano delivers more than expected.Three names tied to my father’s empire. One dead. One missing.And one… alive. Barely.Micah Quinn.He was my father’s runner. Trusted. Sharp. Vanished the same night Roman’s men raided the last Veronin compound. Assumed dead.Until now.Delano gives me an address.“Dock 17. Cargo storage behind the decommissioned freighters. He hides during the day. Doesn’t trust anyone.”“Good,” I reply. “He shouldn’t.”I don’t tell Roman. But I do tell Alana.She finds me in the gym, sweat dripping, fists raw from the bag.“Delano came through?”“Yeah,” I pant, wiping my face. “Micah’s alive.”Her brows lift. “You’re sure?”“As sure as I’ve ever been about anything.”She walks toward me, slowly, carefully.“Then we go,” she says. “Together.”I lean into her touch as her fingers brush over

ZACHSome people leave. Some people die. And some vanish so cleanly it makes you wonder if they were ever real.Kael was the third kind.He disappeared when Roman’s men burned everything to the ground. But before that, he was everything I knew.He taught me how to shoot. How to break a nose with one punch. How to pull a trigger without flinching.He used to tell me, “You’re not here to feel. You’re here to finish.” But that was before the empire fell.Before the boy he trained was shoved into the system like a loose piece of evidence nobody wanted to claim.Now he’s back. And I don’t know if I want to kill him or thank him. Probably both.The hotel is the kind of place people pretend not to see. Graffiti over cracked windows. Paint peeling like dead skin. A front desk that’s been abandoned longer than I’ve been alive. He’s in room 412. Top floor. Far end.Alana waits in the car — her fingers on the trigger if anything goes wrong. She didn’t argue when I said I wanted to go in alone. S

ZACHYou don’t know who you are until the gun’s in your hand and the choice is yours.You either become the man who pulls the trigger… Or the one who walks away.And in this world? Walking away gets you killed.Kael called this morning. He didn’t ask how I’ve been. Didn’t say he was proud. No bullshit reunion talk. Just a place, a time, and a body that needs to disappear.He said, “If you want to lead, start acting like it.”He still talks to me like I’m sixteen and breakable. He doesn’t understand.I am broken. But I broke the way a blade does when it shatters — sharp, jagged, and dangerous from every angle. And I don’t need Kael’s approval to be lethal. But I’ll take the mission.Because cleaning up his mess? It proves something bigger. That I’ve stopped being anyone’s soldier. And started being their problem.I don’t go alone.Alana’s in the passenger seat of the stolen black sedan we picked up two nights ago — the one with plates too clean for the job it’s about to be used for.Sh

ZACHPeople think scars are flaws. That tattoos are decoration. That pain is supposed to be buried. But they’re wrong.Scars remember the things people try to forget.And mine? Mine tell the truth. Even when I can’t.It’s late. The city hums outside like it’s whispering secrets to the dark.Alana’s asleep, curled against me in this new bed, in this new chapter of her legacy. Her hair’s tangled on the pillow, one leg hooked over mine, lips parted just slightly like she finally let go of every weight she carries.She doesn’t sleep like that often.Not when Roman still watches. Not when knives still hide behind the smiles of her so-called council. Not when the world keeps demanding she be ruthless, perfect, untouchable.But with me? She exhales. And for a while, that’s enough.I slip out of bed without waking her, grab a pack of cigarettes from the windowsill, and head out to the balcony.The air bites at my skin. It’s damp and alive — the kind of night that reminds you you’re still brea

ZACHKael used to say there are only two kinds of people in this world, monsters and prey. I used to think he was wrong.Now? I think he just left out the third kind.The ones who fight the monsters. The ones who don’t bow. The ones who burn. Like Alana.Word spreads fast. By midmorning, every man in the compound knows that Matteo Rollo gave up names. That he bled in the basement. That Alana didn’t blink.They’re scared. Not of Roman. Not even of me. But her. And that’s exactly how it should be.I’m walking down the east corridor, toward the training wing, when Rivas stops me. He’s got a fresh bruise under his eye and a cigarette between his teeth.“Boss wants you downstairs.”“Which one?”He smirks. “The one with the sharp mouth and sharper knives.”“Alana.”He nods. “Said bring the file on Kael’s leftover lieutenants.”That gets my attention.“Which ones?”“Start with Brice.”I grit my teeth.Brice is one of the few Kael men who made it through the transition without catching a bull