Vic Fuentes Kellin Quinn Novels & Stories

The third message in the chain was from Vincenzo. “Vasquez has gone to ground. The last confirmed location was the south corridor three weeks ago. His primary civilian connection is a woman named Willow, currently residing at the address attached. She served time for him eight years ago. He trusted her enough to let her take charge, if he contacts anyone from his previous life it will be her requesting approval to establish proximity.” I read that three times. Requesting approval to establish proximity. He had sent a formal request to his capo to move in next door to me.

Killian paused, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips. "It traces directly back to Arthur’s personal servers in Queens," Killian whispered, his voice holding a dark, terrifying triumph. "Specifically, the server used to fund your retainer, Henderson. If you hand that drive to the FBI, they won't find a connection to Vane Global. They’ll find a digital trail proving that Arthur St. Claire fabricated federal evidence to obstruct a private corporate takeover."

"The case was reassigned." "And every piece of evidence she collected vanished." Lucien looked back at Damien's letter. "If Damien trusted her above everyone else..." "Then she knew something." Elias answered quietly. "She knew who benefited from the Quinn murders." A knock interrupted the conversation. Everyone instinctively turned. Vivienne had already drawn her weapon. An FBI agent stood outside the hidden room. "Mr. Vale?" Lucien walked to the doorway. "What is it?" "We've just received a report." "What happened?"

After Jeremy heard that, his hands froze as they were trying to flip open the documents. “You’re dismissed.” Ken did not ask much before leaving. Jeremy flipped through the documents quickly, and the information on them was simple. Vera Quinn was from F Country. She grew up in F Country and had never come to Glendale before. She studied psychology in university and had lots of interests. There was close to zero information about her social life. It just stated that she had a very close male friend.

Quentin, surprised by her boldness, spoke up, "Miss, who might you be?" He had seen plenty of people try to get close to Gavin, but none had been this direct. Sitting down without hesitation as if they were old friends—who was this woman? Jolie smiled at Quentin. "Hi, I’m Jolie Quin." Quentin returned a professional smile. "Nice to meet you, Miss Quin. I’m Mr. Cooper’s assistant, Quentin Rhett. If there’s something you need, feel free to contact me first. This is Mr. Cooper’s private time, and it might not be the best moment for—"

The kind of vetting that couldn’t be cheated, bribed, or bypassed. And tonight, the woman known only as Horizon was in the chair. Sophie Lancaster stood behind a one-way mirror, arms folded, lips tight. She didn’t speak as the biometric scanner confirmed the subject’s ID and began the sequence. Beside her stood Eleanor Lancaster, flipping through a dossier twice as thick as the one Julian had received. “The Revala files match,” Eleanor said quietly. “She was embedded in Crane’s compliance cell for twenty-one months. Her real name is Marissa Quade—former contract auditor, recruited out of University of Chicago, disappeared five years ago under an Interpol red flag.”

Isabella had been many things, fragile, beautiful, silent but she had never been annoying. A soft chime from my private terminal broke the silence. A leak from the Syndicate’s internal server. I pay five million a year for first access to the dark-web chatter, and tonight, the investment paid off. I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as a file opened. There was no photo, just a name and a trail of digital wreckage. Subject:Valencia Knox. Activity:Purchased 20% of Rossi Logistics via shell companies. Primary suspect in the Pier 17 "accident."

Instead, they'd just reminded him exactly why he was dangerous. And now they'd learn what happened when you forgot that some people don't just survive attacks, they came back stronger. ~~~~ Two hours later, we stood in Killian's office watching news vans gather in the street below. The story had broken across every major financial network. *FBI Raids Target Board Members in Corporate Conspiracy,” the headline scrolled across the bottom of the screen. “How long before they arrest Vivian?” I asked. “She's already gone,” Alec said from behind us. “Her private jet left Singapore three hours ago, the destination is still unknown. But we've frozen her accounts, and Interpol has been notified.”

Her fingers hesitated only once before plugging in the flash drive. The contents loaded. Dozens of files. Emails. Voice recordings. Surveillance photos. Internal memos. All labelled: M.Q. Magnolia Quinn. Her throat dried. She clicked the first document. It was an email from a Briggs Industries executive: "Subject M.Q. is threatening exposure. Evaluate Termination Option 2." Another email Ten followed: "Prepare a public statement if the disappearance proceeds. Consult legal for a containment strategy." Then a voice memo: Colton’s voice. Calm. Icy.

"You'll be moved to a secure research facility tomorrow. Top-level security, isolated from any external networks. You'll have access to your mother's remaining files and a team of scientists who've been studying the Keystone since its existence became known." "What about Viktor?" I asked. "And Isabella? Giuliana?" "They're being read into the program as we speak," Webb said. "We'll need their expertise as well. Viktor knows the Tribunal's Eastern European operations. Isabella has connections to their Western networks. And Giuliana... well, she's been playing this game longer than any of us. If anyone knows how to fight shadows, it's her."