Alex’s hands felt colder than the morning air, even though they were tucked into his coat pockets. The city hall stood just a few metres from where he stood. Dressed in his usual three-piece tailored suit, Alex was looking as dashing as ever. His jaw remained clenched, and the bruises from Lucian’s punch were faint on his skin. He reached the steps of the city hall and paused, glancing at his watch. 7:45 AM. Fifteen minutes before he would be forced to tie the knot with her. Or so she thought. But he had a plan. His phone chimed with a notification. He slid his hand into his pocket and picked it up. 'Ready for action. Waiting for the target,' the notification read. Alex's lip twitched. Last night after Cassandra had left, Alex had made a call to a former acquaintance who specialises in making problems disappear. A man who didn’t ask questions as long as the price was right. Money was not a problem to Alex, as long as the problem before him was handled, he could give as much
The sky was draped in a thick blanket of grey clouds as if mourning alongside the small gathering at the cemetery with Cassandra’s name etched on the headstone. Krystie stood among the mourners, her face pale with black sunglasses draped over her eyes. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed the sleepless nights she had had. She wore a simple black dress, her hands trembling as she clutched the envelope Cassandra had given her. She had dared not open, afraid of what she might find. Her eyes remained fixed on the lowering casket, guilt gnawing at her core. The priest’s words faded into the background. She was only present physically. Chloe gently placed a hand on Krystie’s shoulder, her voice soft and reassuring. "Krystie, please stop blaming yourself. You did everything you could. You saved her. This wasn’t your fault." Krystie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her heart was heavy with unanswered questions. The logical side of her brain to accept life and death as part of the job w
The blood-stained envelope lay on the table, its edges crumpled. Krystie stared at it with a pounding heart. Chloe and Lucian sat across from her, anticipation evident on their faces. The silence between them was almost deafening. Krystie’s heart raced as she finally tore it open. The contents spilt out across the table, a stack of photographs faded with time, and a small note written in Cassandra's handwriting. Krystie reached for them with trembling fingers, afraid of what she might see. Chloe’s gasped, her fingers flying to her mouth. "Oh my God…" she whispered, her eyes darting from photo to photo. The first photo showed a strikingly handsome young man with piercing dark eyes and a charismatic smile. He was laughing, caught mid-motion, his arm around someone just out of frame. Krystie’s breath hitched. She recognized him from the countless times Lucian had mentioned him. Damien! Lucian’s elder brother. The same brother who had been murdered the day Krystie’s parents died
Krystie, Chloe, and Lucian sat in the living, each one deep in their thoughts. Krystie’s phone buzzed, breaking through the silence. She picked it up, her eyes narrowing as she read the message: Boss, there is another unauthorized surgery scheduled soon. Details are vague, but it’s happening within the next few days. Nancy. Krystie’s jaw tightened. She stood abruptly pacing around the room. They are not going to stop any soon, there's another scheduled surgery happening soon, she muttered, her voice low Lucian’s eyes darkened, but Chloe spoke first. "Then we need to stop them. We can’t sit here while people out there need our help. That's what Papa taught us. Krystie shook her head in frustration. "Exactly. But I don't know how to help them. I can’t go back into the hospital without drawing attention. I’m still under investigation. I was suspended, remember." A deafening silence followed until Chloe broke it. "Then that's the point where my plan comes into the picture. I
The hospital corridors were very silent. Krystie, Lucian, and his team of trusted allies walked through, dressed in scrubs and surgical masks. "Let me check on Chloe first," Krystie whispered to Lucian as she peeled away from the group. She reached the door and paused, her heart pounding in her chest. "Inject her now. She's the next one for the procedure," a cold voice ordered from inside. Krystie’s eyes flashed with fury. Without hesitation, she kicked the door open. Two masked nurses turned in shock, one holding a syringe filled with a clear liquid. Chloe lay on the bed helplessly, her face pale from fear of what would happen if Krystie didn't make it on time. Krystie grabbed the nurse with the syringe, twisting his wrist until the needle clattered to the floor. With a swift punch to his jaw, he crumpled. The second nurse lunged at her, but she was faster, driving her elbow into his throat before sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the floor with a thud. Krystie to
Dr Lawrence’s eyes fluttered open. A sharp, metallic scent filled the air, the cold dampness of the room made him shiver. His head throbbed with pain, a dull ache from the back where he had been struck. He tried to move, but his arms were bound tightly behind a metal chair, his legs shackled to the floor. The faint sound of waves crashing hinted that they were near the coast. Perhaps Italy, from the faint accent in the whispered words exchanged around him. As his vision cleared, he took in his surroundings. He was in a vast, abandoned warehouse somewhere unfamiliar. His heart raced with panic when he noticed the men surrounding him. They weren’t the big boss’s men. They were fierce, sharp-eyed men dressed in black, their postures rigid with discipline. Some had scars and others bore tattoos with symbols he couldn’t recognize, but all of them radiated the same silent threat. Their faces were cold, emotionless, and deadly. "Where am I?" Dr Lawrence asked drawing the attention o
The sirens grew louder as the cars made their way to Dock 47. The stench of gunpowder, blood and bodies scattered like discarded chess pieces in the area. Two black SUVs with tinted windows screeched to a halt. Armed men dressed in black tactical gear spilt out. Their faces were masked, they had been tracking the van since it left the hospital. They were Krystie's people, not the police. The GPS trackers hidden inside the cartons had led them here. The sirens were only to scare everyone away. "Secure the area and clean everything!" barked the team leader, a man with a sharp jawline and piercing grey eyes that missed nothing. Inside the cartons, the doctors and nurses had begun to stir, groggy from the sedatives. Panic flashed across their faces as the realization set in, everything foggy in their minds. One of the men yanked the tape off a doctor’s mouth. The doctor gasped, coughing violently as he tried to speak. "Please help us," he croaked, his voice raw from dehydration.
The big boss stood at the corner of the warehouse looking out of the window. His dark mask covered his face as always. Things had started going wrong! The warehouse was silent except for the chirping of the birds outside. Ben, his right-hand man, stood beside him, tense. He was afraid the boss might lash out at him. "Boss, I think it's kind of strange, everything is so wrong right now. We still haven’t found Dr. Lawrence. It’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth. At the dock, everything was wiped out clean. I think we have a mole in our group." The big boss exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Lawrence, that bastard ruined everything. And now he’s hiding?" His voice was deadly calm, but everyone in the room knew what that meant, someone was going to die tonight. "About a mole, I have noticed that too. Don't worry about it. I'll handle everything in today's meeting. Make sure that boy also attends, I want to deal with him tonight." The big boss took a seat at the table.
Mr. King sat in his luxurious office, his mind elsewhere. His fingers tapped impatiently against the polished surface of his desk while his other hand gripped his phone tightly. It was already three days. Three damn days without a single word from his brother. His younger brother had never gone this long without answering his calls or at least checking in. He had a bad premonition about it! Mr King exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. His sources inside the big boss’s operations had gone quiet too, which only deepened his unease. Something was wrong. His phone buzzed, jolting him from his thoughts. It was an unknown number. Frowning, he hesitated before answering. "Who is this?" His voice was sharp and demanding. Silence. Then a distorted voice, as if through a voice changer. "Your brother is in critical condition at St. Lucy's Hospital." A cold chill ran through Mr King's spine. His grip tightened on the phone. "What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?" "Wh
The meeting room inside the warehouse was dimly lit with only a single overhead light. Across the wooden table, the men seated around with tension on their faces. The big boss sat at the head of the table, his gloved fingers tapping rhythmically against the wooden table. His dark mask hid his expression, but the sharp glint in his eyes was enough to send chills through the men seated before him. His patience had run out. Ben stood beside him silently, watching as the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Every man in the room knew that meetings like these never ended well. Someone wasn’t going to walk out of this room alive. The big boss finally spoke, his voice calm. "We have a big problem!" He leaned back in his chair. "You see, everything has been going to hell lately. Our plan was interfered with, the dock was wiped clean, our men tortured, and Dr Lawrence returned to us in a state that not even the devil himself would wish upon his worst enemy. He let the words s
The big boss stood at the corner of the warehouse looking out of the window. His dark mask covered his face as always. Things had started going wrong! The warehouse was silent except for the chirping of the birds outside. Ben, his right-hand man, stood beside him, tense. He was afraid the boss might lash out at him. "Boss, I think it's kind of strange, everything is so wrong right now. We still haven’t found Dr. Lawrence. It’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth. At the dock, everything was wiped out clean. I think we have a mole in our group." The big boss exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Lawrence, that bastard ruined everything. And now he’s hiding?" His voice was deadly calm, but everyone in the room knew what that meant, someone was going to die tonight. "About a mole, I have noticed that too. Don't worry about it. I'll handle everything in today's meeting. Make sure that boy also attends, I want to deal with him tonight." The big boss took a seat at the table.
The sirens grew louder as the cars made their way to Dock 47. The stench of gunpowder, blood and bodies scattered like discarded chess pieces in the area. Two black SUVs with tinted windows screeched to a halt. Armed men dressed in black tactical gear spilt out. Their faces were masked, they had been tracking the van since it left the hospital. They were Krystie's people, not the police. The GPS trackers hidden inside the cartons had led them here. The sirens were only to scare everyone away. "Secure the area and clean everything!" barked the team leader, a man with a sharp jawline and piercing grey eyes that missed nothing. Inside the cartons, the doctors and nurses had begun to stir, groggy from the sedatives. Panic flashed across their faces as the realization set in, everything foggy in their minds. One of the men yanked the tape off a doctor’s mouth. The doctor gasped, coughing violently as he tried to speak. "Please help us," he croaked, his voice raw from dehydration.
Dr Lawrence’s eyes fluttered open. A sharp, metallic scent filled the air, the cold dampness of the room made him shiver. His head throbbed with pain, a dull ache from the back where he had been struck. He tried to move, but his arms were bound tightly behind a metal chair, his legs shackled to the floor. The faint sound of waves crashing hinted that they were near the coast. Perhaps Italy, from the faint accent in the whispered words exchanged around him. As his vision cleared, he took in his surroundings. He was in a vast, abandoned warehouse somewhere unfamiliar. His heart raced with panic when he noticed the men surrounding him. They weren’t the big boss’s men. They were fierce, sharp-eyed men dressed in black, their postures rigid with discipline. Some had scars and others bore tattoos with symbols he couldn’t recognize, but all of them radiated the same silent threat. Their faces were cold, emotionless, and deadly. "Where am I?" Dr Lawrence asked drawing the attention o
The hospital corridors were very silent. Krystie, Lucian, and his team of trusted allies walked through, dressed in scrubs and surgical masks. "Let me check on Chloe first," Krystie whispered to Lucian as she peeled away from the group. She reached the door and paused, her heart pounding in her chest. "Inject her now. She's the next one for the procedure," a cold voice ordered from inside. Krystie’s eyes flashed with fury. Without hesitation, she kicked the door open. Two masked nurses turned in shock, one holding a syringe filled with a clear liquid. Chloe lay on the bed helplessly, her face pale from fear of what would happen if Krystie didn't make it on time. Krystie grabbed the nurse with the syringe, twisting his wrist until the needle clattered to the floor. With a swift punch to his jaw, he crumpled. The second nurse lunged at her, but she was faster, driving her elbow into his throat before sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the floor with a thud. Krystie to
Krystie, Chloe, and Lucian sat in the living, each one deep in their thoughts. Krystie’s phone buzzed, breaking through the silence. She picked it up, her eyes narrowing as she read the message: Boss, there is another unauthorized surgery scheduled soon. Details are vague, but it’s happening within the next few days. Nancy. Krystie’s jaw tightened. She stood abruptly pacing around the room. They are not going to stop any soon, there's another scheduled surgery happening soon, she muttered, her voice low Lucian’s eyes darkened, but Chloe spoke first. "Then we need to stop them. We can’t sit here while people out there need our help. That's what Papa taught us. Krystie shook her head in frustration. "Exactly. But I don't know how to help them. I can’t go back into the hospital without drawing attention. I’m still under investigation. I was suspended, remember." A deafening silence followed until Chloe broke it. "Then that's the point where my plan comes into the picture. I
The blood-stained envelope lay on the table, its edges crumpled. Krystie stared at it with a pounding heart. Chloe and Lucian sat across from her, anticipation evident on their faces. The silence between them was almost deafening. Krystie’s heart raced as she finally tore it open. The contents spilt out across the table, a stack of photographs faded with time, and a small note written in Cassandra's handwriting. Krystie reached for them with trembling fingers, afraid of what she might see. Chloe’s gasped, her fingers flying to her mouth. "Oh my God…" she whispered, her eyes darting from photo to photo. The first photo showed a strikingly handsome young man with piercing dark eyes and a charismatic smile. He was laughing, caught mid-motion, his arm around someone just out of frame. Krystie’s breath hitched. She recognized him from the countless times Lucian had mentioned him. Damien! Lucian’s elder brother. The same brother who had been murdered the day Krystie’s parents died
The sky was draped in a thick blanket of grey clouds as if mourning alongside the small gathering at the cemetery with Cassandra’s name etched on the headstone. Krystie stood among the mourners, her face pale with black sunglasses draped over her eyes. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed the sleepless nights she had had. She wore a simple black dress, her hands trembling as she clutched the envelope Cassandra had given her. She had dared not open, afraid of what she might find. Her eyes remained fixed on the lowering casket, guilt gnawing at her core. The priest’s words faded into the background. She was only present physically. Chloe gently placed a hand on Krystie’s shoulder, her voice soft and reassuring. "Krystie, please stop blaming yourself. You did everything you could. You saved her. This wasn’t your fault." Krystie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her heart was heavy with unanswered questions. The logical side of her brain to accept life and death as part of the job w