All Chapters of Shattered chain : Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

The walls of Eden felt tighter that night, suffocating, like they were closing in on me. I had lied to Damien and gotten away with it—for now. But I knew that didn’t mean I was safe. It only meant I was walking on a razor’s edge, and one wrong move would send me tumbling into the abyss. Michael was still out cold. If anything went wrong before he woke up, everything we had worked for would fall apart. I needed to keep Damien convinced. I needed to keep my head above water. And I needed to do it alone. Damien called for me again the next night. I walked into his office, my pulse pounding in my ears. He was behind his desk as usual, swirling a fresh glass of whiskey, his expression unreadable. “You surprised me, Winnie,” he said. I kept my face blank. “How?” He leaned back in his chair, watching me with those cold, calculating eyes. “I thought you would hesitate. I thought you’d try to find a way out of it.” I shrugged. “You gave me an order. I followed it.” Damien

Carter and I didn’t have much time. Damien was expecting proof of his death, and if I didn’t deliver it soon, he’d start asking questions. Questions I couldn’t afford to answer. We needed a body. Or at least something convincing enough to make Damien believe Carter was dead. We worked quickly. The warehouse was filled with abandoned crates, broken equipment, and discarded tarps. Michael had taught me a few things about deception, and I was about to put them to the test. Carter found an old mannequin in the storage room—dusty, missing an arm, but still usable. “We need blood,” I muttered, pulling out my knife. Carter frowned. “What are you—” Before he could stop me, I sliced a shallow cut across my arm, just enough to make it bleed. “Jesus,” Carter swore. I ignored him, letting the blood drip onto the mannequin’s chest. It wasn’t perfect, but under the right lighting, it would look real enough. Next, we set up the scene. We dragged the mannequin to a dark corn

Carter was gone. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Someone had him. And I had no idea if he was still alive. Michael paced the small storage room, running a hand through his hair. “We have to be smart about this.” “Smart?” I snapped. “We don’t have time for smart. We don’t even know if he’s still breathing!” Michael’s jaw tightened. “And charging in blind will only get us both killed.” I hated that he was right. I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. “Okay. Where do we start?” Michael grabbed his laptop from the shelf, typing furiously. “The number that texted you—it was encrypted, but I might be able to trace its origin.” I watched the screen anxiously as lines of code flashed across it. Minutes passed, each one heavier than the last. Then Michael froze. “Got something.” I stepped closer. “Where?” “Not a full address, but a location pinged near the docks.” He turned to me. “It’s an abandoned shipping yard.” A cold dread settled in my chest

The city was quiet. Too quiet. I stood in the dimly lit motel room, gripping the black case in my hands. Inside, the proof that could destroy Damien lay untouched. It felt heavier than it should have—like it carried the weight of every scar, every wound, every life he had shattered. Michael sat on the edge of the bed, checking his gun. Carter leaned against the wall, still weak but determined. We had made it this far. We couldn’t stop now. “This is it,” Michael said, sliding in the last bullet. “We expose him tonight, or we die trying.” I swallowed hard. “We’re not dying.” Michael smirked. “That’s the spirit.” Carter exhaled. “Are you sure this will work?” I looked at the flash drive in my palm—the key to ending Damien once and for all. “It has to.” --- We had a plan. The evidence was going to be leaked. Not just to the police. Not just to the press. To *everyone.* Live. Public. Unstoppable. We hacked into a news station’s broadcast. It wasn’t