Done And Dusted Audiobook Novels & Stories

When I shifted back into my human form, I was wrapped in the cloak Danny had given me. He didn't ask me if it hurt. Instead, he reached out to wipe the blood from my chin, his gaze dark and intense. "Is it over?" I looked down at the dying Trey in the snow and slowly exhaled a cloud of white air. "It's over between him and me. But not between me and the Gram pack." Danny stood silently for a moment, then suddenly placed the green diamond into my hand. "Then move forward. Winterbrook will be returned to you, and the Gram pack's land will be rebuilt. If you want, I'll be here to help you reclaim it all."

## Meanwhile: The Winery Cellar The rhythmic *drip... drip... drip* of Silas's blood onto the concrete floor was the only sound punctuating the heavy silence. Bronson and Kresh had stepped out, leaving him hanging in the chains, a broken puppet suspended in the damp gloom. The pain was a constant, roaring fire consuming him, each breath a ragged struggle against bruised ribs and the agony radiating from his shattered jaw. Consciousness flickered, threatening to recede into merciful oblivion.

Instead, her hands trembled against her cream dress, a look of profound horror and respect washing over her features. "Fifteen," Enzo barked, his voice losing a bit of its smug satisfaction. He was realizing that he couldn’t break Frank Costello. He could tear his flesh, but he couldn't bend his spine. . When the final, twentieth strike echoed through the room, the guard stepped back, his chest heaving from the exertion. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the scent of fresh blood. For a long, terrifying moment, Frank didn't move. He remained hunched over the desk, his head bowed, blood dripping steadily from his lower back onto the polished hardwood floor.

And typed across the bottom of the screen, in a clean, professional font, was a single sentence: The Audit is incomplete. We require a sacrifice. I looked at Enzo. He looked at me. In the red, pulsing light of the dying servers, we weren't a Don and a thief anymore. We were two variables in a terminal equation.

"Run back to the ash! If they catch you, they’ll turn you into the 'New Engine'! You’ll be the one who powers the servers for the next eternity!" Silas lunged for me, but a golden bar slammed into his chest, throwing him back into the grey void. "SILAS!" I screamed. I turned to run, but the floor was gone. I was falling through a sea of contracts, numbers, and blood. And then, the voice of the Chief Adjuster—a voice that sounded like a million coins hitting the floor—echoed in my mind. "**SUBMIT TO THE AUDIT, SUBJECT 01. YOUR EXISTENCE IS NO LONGER COST-EFFECTIVE.**"

Minutes later the jet rose into the air with a faint judder, streaking away from the base and into the early evening sky. They’d reach the target an hour before sunset in that time zone, giving them enough time to get into position and wait. Drone surveillance showed no activity outside the processing plant yet, but that didn’t mean anything about its interior. They’d know more once they landed and Donovan got eyes on the buildings. Halfway to their destination, the director came on the line, his voice snapping crisply over everyone’s encrypted comms. “Base to Alpha Team, we have confirmed Baudin’s death with the CIA. Be advised there most certainly may be a dark mage in the midst.”

It felt like something had shifted, like a glass had shattered and even though the pieces were swept away, you could still hear the shattering sound of it breaking if you listened closely enough. No one said anything. Not even Craig, considering he always had something to say. And that was saying something. I leaned back slightly in my chair, exhaling slowly, only just realizing I had been holding my breath through most of that entire exchange. My fingers still tingled faintly, goosebumps lingering on my skin like a reminder that I had just witnessed something extremely monumental, and phenomenal. “You people can go back to work now,” Lana said, already turning to her laptop like she hadn’t