บททั้งหมดของ The Cold Compromise : บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Chapter 31: Nightmares Ethan dreamed of Hayes again. Not the Hayes he had known for five steady years—the partner who handed him coffee before he even asked, who covered for him during long nights, who trusted him more than anyone else on the Task Force. No. The Hayes in this dream was colder, sharper, and emptied out. His eyes looked like something had carved the softness out of him and left only a hollow space where trust used to live. In the dream, they were back in the Task Force office. The air felt heavy. The buzzing fluorescent lights painted the whole room in a sick, pale yellow. Hayes stood beside Ethan’s desk, staring at the unplugged computer tower—at the empty slot where the hard drive used to be. “You destroyed everything,” Hayes said. His voice was calm in a way that felt more dangerous than shouting. “Every case. Every lead. Every piece of evidence you touched. You burned it to protect him.” “I had to,” Ethan heard himself say. His voice sounded distant, like it

Chapter 33: Elena’s Missed Calls Luca stared at his phone like it might explode in his hand. Fourteen missed calls. Every single one from Elena. The timestamps lined up like bruises—spread across three long days. Two calls the first night. Five the second. Seven today. The last one was only twenty minutes ago. He hadn’t answered even one. “You’re going to have to talk to her eventually,” Ethan said from the doorway. He held two cups of coffee, steam rising into the cold morning air of the apartment. Luca didn’t turn around. “Not yet.” “Luca—” “I said not yet.” The words came out too sharply. He forced his voice back under control. “If I call her now, she’ll ask things I can’t explain. And if I lie, she’ll hear it.” Ethan walked over and set a cup beside him. “She’s your sister. She deserves to know you’re alive.” “She deserves a normal life,” Luca said, finally lifting his eyes. They were tired, worn thin. “The FBI is still watching her building. She’s scared and confused

Chapter 35: Touch as Language Elena led them to a place Luca had not stepped into for more than ten years. The old architecture studio sat in the basement of a converted warehouse in Red Hook. It was hidden behind a rusted service door that looked like it had not been touched since the last century. But Elena pulled a key from her pocket and pushed it open with practiced confidence. A narrow concrete stairwell dropped into darkness. "This way," she said quietly. She did not look at them. They followed her into a wide open space filled with drafting tables, half-built models, and walls covered with sketches and blueprints. The overhead lights flicked on with a harsh industrial glare that carved sharp shadows across the room. "It is my graduate studio," Elena said. She locked the door behind them with three separate locks. "No cameras. No windows. The walls are soundproof. We can talk here." She turned to them, and the raw emotion in her face cut straight through the air. "Now te

Chapter 37: The Petrov Victory Luca sat in front of the camera without moving, like a man carved out of quiet tension, while Ethan made the final adjustments to the lighting. The room felt too still. Too cold. Twenty-three minutes until the call. The study no longer felt like their space. Ethan had stripped it down to bones. No art. No windows. No soft edges. Just a blank white wall behind Luca and lighting so sharp it erased shadows, as if he were preparing him not for a meeting, but for judgment. “Don’t look directly at the camera,” Ethan said, his tone steady and professional. “Look slightly above it. It makes you seem in control. And keep your shoulders set. Command the space.” “I know how to run a meeting,” Luca said. “This isn’t a meeting. It’s a trial.” Ethan stepped back, checking everything again with that sharp, methodical eye. “Vincent will go after you right away. He wants you rattled. Don’t let him pull you into his tempo.” “And if the others take his side?” “The

Chapter 39: Elena's Argument Luca stared at the message until the phone screen dimmed. Don Leo was dead. An hour ago. He waited for a reaction—relief, anger, grief, anything—but nothing came. Only a heavy, empty numbness that felt too large to understand. “I need to go back,” he said quietly. “No.” Ethan’s answer was sharp, immediate. “You’re not going.” They were still standing on the promenade, the fountain behind them throwing mist into the lights like dusted stars. People moved around them, laughing, taking pictures, unaware of the storm settling in the quiet between two men who had finally escaped everything. “It’s my father’s funeral,” Luca said. “It’s a trap.” Ethan grabbed his arm and guided him toward a darker part of the walkway. “Vincent wants you back because he knows you can’t go. The second you land in New York, Hayes can’t protect you. Maxwell will have you in handcuffs before you reach the cemetery.” “Then I go and accept it,” Luca said, voice calm in a way