《The Debt Collector's Price》全部章節：第 121 章 - 第 130 章

GABRIEL'S POVJanuary 28, 2026. 2:03 AM.Atlantic airspace. Thirty-seven thousand feet.The cabin is submerged in darkness, lit only by the low, blue wash of the tactical tablets and the instrument panels up front. The drone of the engines is a constant, vibrating hum that seems to settle in my bones.My ribs are screaming. It’s not an ache anymore; it’s a sharp, jagged reminder of the Zurich bank with every shallow inhale. The vest caught the round, absorbing the penetration, but the kinetic energy cracked something deep.I shift in the leather seat, trying to find an angle that doesn’t feel like a knife twisting. Pain radiates through my chest, hot and insistent.Isla is asleep across from me. Her head rests against the cold window, her breathing steady and rhythmic.I watch her. The woman I love. The woman I chose.I’m not protecting a principal anymore. I’m not guarding a client or securing a high-value asset. I’m protecting a life I finally want to live.The contract is dead. The

GABRIEL'S POVJanuary 28, 2026. 3:17 AM.The hatch screams as we open it, rusted steel grinding against iron. Beneath it lies a throat of absolute darkness.Isla descends first. I follow three steps behind, my boots finding purchase on rungs that are slick with condensation and corrosion.Twenty feet down. Thirty. The air changes as we drop. The biting wind of the Maine surface dies, replaced by a stillness that chills the sweat on my neck. It smells antiseptic and dead—chemical cleaners masking the scent of wet earth and rot.Isla hits the bottom. Her boots strike concrete with a flat, hollow sound.I drop beside her, scanning the space. It’s a tunnel, narrow and oppressive, the ceiling low enough to scrape the

ISLA'S POVJanuary 28, 2026. 8:03 AM.Morrison Estate. The boardroom.The sun is fully up now, spilling a harsh, golden light through the windows that exposes every dust mote dancing in the air.The helicopters are gone. Just black specks dissolving into the southern horizon, taking Hale, taking Walsh, taking the rotting weight of the past with them. The silence they leave behind is heavy, ringing in my ears like the aftermath of a gunshot.For the first time in my life, I don’t hear my father’s ghost whispering about debts and vaults. I don’t hear the syndicate’s static.I hear silence. Absolute. Clean.Sarah Kim and Elena Vasquez are still here, sitting

ISLA'S POVJanuary 28, 2026. 1:03 PM.Morrison Estate. My office.I sit at the desk, the laptop screen glowing cool against my tired eyes.Beside me, Gabriel has shed the tactical gear. He’s wearing a simple shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing forearms that have carried weapons for fifteen years. Now, they just rest on the armrests, relaxed but present.I feel the physical weight of the Enter key under my index finger. The plastic is smooth, cold.My father spent his life building this weapon. The demolition protocol.Now I’m executing it.The screen displays a cascading list of Walsh's offshore accounts. Dozens of them. Cayman Is

ISLA'S POVJanuary 28, 2026. 8:07 PM.The wind on Morrison Ridge has teeth, stripping the heat from my skin the second I step away from the fire.Below us, the Atlantic is a black void, crashing against the rocks with a rhythm I can feel in the soles of my boots. We built the fire from driftwood and pine kindling scrounged from the tree line. The flames snap and twist, painting the darkness in erratic strokes of orange and gold.Gabriel tends it. He moves slowly, the exhaustion of the last month finally catching up to his limbs. But there is peace in the way he places the wood. Deliberate. Calm.I watch him. The man I love. The man I chose when the math said I shouldn't.The island is dark. Quiet. No trackers pinging my pho