Romane von Jarish143

Rain fell in relentless sheets, turning the city into a blurred constellation of fractured lights.Rex Hidalgo moved through it like a ghost.No escort. No convoy. No digital trail.Only instinct.For forty-eight hours, he had ceased to exist.Officially, he was unreachable. Unofficially… he was hunting.Adrian Vale’s capture had been merely the first thread. Rex had learned long ago that traitors rarely acted alone — betrayal was a chain, each link forged by desperation, greed, ambition, or fear.And Rex intended to break every single one.Beca

The silence after the call felt heavier than the explosion that had shattered J&J’s lobby.No one moved.No one breathed.Adrian Vale.One of Rex’s men.The words echoed through the temporary crisis headquarters like a verdict already passed.Jenna lowered the phone slowly, her reflection staring back at her from the glass wall — composed, unbreakable, terrifyingly calm.Inside, however, something molten shifted.Not fear.Not panic.Betrayal.—Rex was the first to speak.“No,” he said quietly.It wasn’t denial.It was disbelief sharpened into pain.“He’s been with my division for six years… top percentile clearance, decorated cyber-defense architect. I vetted him personally.”Jenna turned toward him.

The command unit fell silent after Jenna finished reading the note.Even the distant wail of sirens seemed to fade beneath the weight of that single sentence.Every kingdom falls from the inside.Jenna lowered the page slowly, her fingers steady despite the storm rising beneath her ribs.Inside.Not outside attackers.Not faceless enemies.Someone close.Someone trusted.The air suddenly felt contaminated.—

The explosion came without warning.One moment, the J&J Global headquarters lobby shimmered with polished marble and morning sunlight pouring through thirty-foot glass panels.The next—The world detonated.A thunderous roar tore through the building, violent enough to seem alive, as if the air itself had turned predatory. Glass burst inward in a glittering tidal wave. The chandeliers above fractured into a thousand falling stars.Screams followed.Then heat.Then smoke.—Jenna never remembered deciding to move.Her body acted.A sharp cry cut through the chaos — small, terrified, unmistakably a child’s.Jenna turned.Near the reception desk, a little girl stood frozen, maybe six years old, clutching a pink backpack as flames licked hungrily along a collapsed wall behind her.Time warped.Debris rained down.People stampeded toward exits.The girl did not move.Jenna ran straight into the falling Glass.“Get down!” she shouted, diving forward just as another shockwave rippled through

The decision came quietly.No press conference. No advisors arguing across polished tables. No dramatic announcement.Jenna made it alone, in the hours before dawn, while Madrid slept beneath a fragile illusion of order. The city outside her hospital window glimmered with distance and indifference, as if it had already decided she did not belong here.Alice’s letter lay folded on the bedside table.Jenna did not touch it again.She didn’t need to.Alice is her nemesis.Always.New York was where Jenna’s empire had been built—but it was also

The hospital's quietness was deceptive.It hummed softly with the sounds of machines and distant footsteps, a fragile illusion of calm stitched together by white walls and controlled lighting. Outside, the world screamed. Inside Jenna's private room, everything waited—breath held, hearts unsteady, truths pressing against their own restraints.Jenna lay awake long after the nurses left.Her lungs still ached with every inhale, a dull reminder that fire had kissed her too closely. She stared at the ceiling, tracing imaginary cracks that weren't there, grounding herself in something simple because her thoughts refused to stay still.David's vow echoed relentlessly in her mind.I will protect Jenna wit