Jsab Pink Corruption Novels & Stories

I don’t like people touching me, even (or especially) well-meaning people like Mary-fucking-Sue. Zeke nods once, seemingly affirmed in some suspicion—though he offers no clarification—then he rises and begins pacing slowly behind his desk, deliberating. “I’m not going to lie to you, two,” he says at last. “The situation with Nick Jin is becoming more and more problematic. You may have been the first person he reached out to, Sarah, but you weren’t the last. He has continued reaching out to our operatives, trying to recruit more to his cause, and I’m sorry to say not everyone he reached out to was as loyal as you were.”

“I even have what we need. James received it to be capable of recovering from this.” Alexis raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Good. Then it’s time we finish this.” Paulina set the record on the table, her heart pounding as she opened it, revealing the damning documents internally. “This is proof of a deal James made 5 years ago. It’s complete corruption—bribery, cowl-ups, you call it. If we show this to the shareholders, they’ll have no preference however to eliminate him.” Alexis’ eyes gleamed with pride as she skimmed through the files. “This is perfect,” she stated, her voice low. “James received it and saw it coming.”

"Gabe's leaking our grid. Every time my unit prepares a raid, the warehouse is a ghost town before we roll up. Kenji built the bridge, and the kid is running across it." "Shinjiro's losing his mind. He's executing dealers in broad daylight. He's throwing his wealth in our faces." "And Gabe's labeling it as 'gang disputes' to keep patrol cars away," Moss said, cutting him off. "Cops protecting predators. It's making me sick." "Then let's fix it." "A bullet won't work, Dominic. It just turns a corrupt pig into a martyr. We need an execution. We need the guillotine."

“There’s a mole in Hawks leaking intel. We need to find them before they find us.” Jabu cracked a grin. “Always the drama with you. Give me a few hours.” As Jabu worked, Myra and I retreated to a small, grimy kitchen. I poured two stiff drinks from a dusty bottle. We didn’t speak for a while no need. The weight of what we faced pressed down on us. After what felt like an eternity, Jabu beckoned us back. “I’ve got something.” On the largest screen flashed a series of encrypted call logs and timestamps. One name repeated suspiciously Captain Themba Dlamini. A decorated officer with a reputation for loyalty, but now a prime suspect.