Vic Fuentes 2024 Mga Nobela at Kwento

"I'm Valeria Montecillo, daughter of Celeste Montecillo. I have proof of corruption in MonteTech. I have proof of illegal smuggling of tech, murder… terror." A sudden silence. An agent stepped forward. "You're requesting witness protection?" She nodded her head. She pulled out a flash drive with blood on it—the last copy from the vault. "I'm calling for action. I want Sebastian Virelli found. And when you do…" Her voice broke like thunder. "You bury him." INT. KC'S OFFICE — LATE NIGHT Files littered his desk—photos, court reports, digital forensic maps. Kc hadn't slept in two days. His stubble had become a beard, his eyes bloodshot, but fire still burned in them.

"Some. I mapped their backup locations. Confirmed Morrison's information. Three copies. All heavily encrypted. All impossible to destroy remotely without the failsafe code Colt mentioned." "Then we focus on finding Victor. Where would he go? Who would he trust? What connections does he have that we can trace?" Colt spoke up. "He has a contact. In Canada. Woman named Elena Volkov. Russian mafia connection. He used her services before. Safe houses. False identities. Movement across borders." "Can we reach her?" "Maybe. If she is willing to talk to us. If Victor has not already paid her to stay silent." Colt pulled out his phone. "I have her number. From years ago. No guarantee it still works."

But that night, in the quiet of our room, with the house finally still and the garden below dark, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at my husband. "Tell me," I said. Lucian set the envelope on the bed between us. "Her name," he said, "is Helena Voss." I did not recognise it. "She was Armand Reyes's partner. Not romantically — professionally. She was the intelligence architect behind everything he built for the past fifteen years." He paused. "Reyes is dead. He was killed in São Paulo eighteen months ago, before you and I were — before any of this. But the people who funded his operation are not dead. They have simply been waiting to see what I would do with the evidence I gathered."

Before I could respond, Marcos's voice cut through the room, sharper and more urgent than before. "Liam. The Prague team. They got a thread. The payment to David Hawthorne originated from a private, closed wealth fund based in Liechtenstein. The 'Valkyrie Fund.' The fund manager is a man named Victor Haas." Victor. V. Alexandra's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes locked on mine. "Who is Victor Haas?" I asked, my voice dropping into deadly calm.

Her eyes flicked to my cane, but she didn’t comment, she just gestured to me. “Come listen to this,” she said, hitting play on an audio file. The crackle of a phone call filled the air—Hayes’ voice, clipped and cold, talking to Salazar. “The funds are clean, Viktor. Three million in crypto, wired to the Cayman account, that’s your own cut from the operation. Not to worry you are safe from the FBI, no one’s looking at you.”

THE GOOD-FOR-NOTHING SOCIALIST VALENCIA CARTER IS SURPRISINGLY GOOD AT SNAGGING WEALTHY MEN: ANOTHER NATIONAL HUSBAND HAS BEEN STOLEN VALENCIA AND CORBYN CIRILLO: THE NEW LOVE COUPLE? VALENCIA AND CORBYN CIRILLO ON A DATE: DUMPING MAVERICK VANDENBERG FOR CORBYN CIRILLO? When Valencia tapped on the social media app, ridiculous headlines like these were the ones that graced her view and led the top 10 of the global trending searches.

When my capos and underbosses informed me that he had being traced and found, I was expecting to see him in America but he really hid all the way in Cuba. Bloody fool. "You sure he is the one?" I asked Marcello as he walked towards me before the rest. "Completely. We've been tracking him down for days now" he replied. "His name is Vanvick. He is called V when on duty. He is a trained assassin, raised and brought up in it since he was eighteen. He has worked for the Agosti's , the Sicilian Code, and he is sometimes used by those fucking politicians here in Cuba and also Mexico" Luca informed me as he walked over with Alessio. He handed me an envelope which I opened to access it contents.

“Another secret for Ryuu to keep, then.” Fukui offered a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah... good luck getting it out of him.” I stared at him, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in my bones. Secrets. Lies. Half-truths. They were suffocating me, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it. The voice of the news anchor filled the room, crisp and unwavering: “Coming up next, more details on the release of Vincenzo Espósito, a man with extensive ties to the Italo-American mafia, convicted in 1997 for multiple crimes...”

Damian confirmed, his hand finding mine under the table, squeezing hard. “I have a contact,” Victor continued, voice low. “Someone who worked adjacent to the original network before I shut it down. She’s been in the northern territories for three years, staying quiet.” He paused. “She reached out on Sunday, says she has details on the funding source.” The table went deathly still. My heart raced wildly, a fierce, protective wave crashing through me. Not my baby. Not after everything. “The funding for the northern network,” Damian repeated, his grip on my hand turning almost bruising.

Something unreadable. I leaned against the bar, arching a brow. “Knew what?” His jaw clenched. “That Fuentes was working with the Wilder Cartel.” I exhaled slowly, keeping my expression neutral. “I had my suspicions.” Kael stepped closer, closing the distance between us. “Suspicions don’t win poker games that precisely, dolcezza.” The way he said it, low and rough, sent a shiver down my spine. I lifted my chin. “I did what needed to be done.”