Hunter and Zafron were in the midst of fixing things around the house, preparing for Estella and her daughter’s arrival. Estella, Hunter’s divorced sister, had decided to move back in with Zafron, their father, after a difficult period in her life. As they worked, Hunter stumbled upon a photo album, filled with memories of their family vacations and gatherings. He flipped through the pages, reminiscing about happier times. Suddenly, a picture fell out from the book, landing at Hunter’s feet. It was a photo of their mother, taken on a sunny day at the beach, with Zafron, Hunter, and Estella by her side, all smiling brightly. Zafron noticed the photo and picked it up, his expression softening as he looked at it. “Your mother loved the beach. She always said it was where she felt most at peace,” Zafron said, his voice filled with nostalgia. Hunter nodded, his gaze fixed on the photo. “I miss her, Dad. I wish she was here to see how much Estella’s daughter has grown,” Hunter said, his v

The scent of ancient machinery and oil permeated the damp warehouse, and stress permeated the air. Surrounded by guys who appeared to enjoy her pain, Alamid was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, her face damaged but defiant. Her ragged breaths reverberated across the otherwise silent room. She was accompanied by two men who were obviously waiting for something; one was pacing and the other was clutching a knife.“You really think you’re going to leave?” With a low, slightly mocking voice, one of the men mocked. Hunter, your friend, is not arriving. He’s just too far away.Alamid raised her chin, her eyes keen, in spite of the bruises and fatigue. She spat, “Hunter always comes,” in a gruff voice that seemed devoid of fear.With a sly smile, the man with the knife approached her. “We’ll check on that.”Hunter gazed in silence from the shadows of the doorway. His face was a mask of calm, but his heart was pounding with every syllable. Hearing Alamid’s defiance in the face of suc

Hunter sat in the dimly lit room, his face outlined in harsh shadows by the illumination from his laptop screen. His mind racing as he monitored the coordinates of Jonathan’s most recent hiding place, his fingers skittered across the keyboard. He had combed through every lead and shadow of the trafficking network for days, weeks, even. At last, though, the parts were beginning to come together.He mumbled to himself, “Gotcha,” when the scene appeared on the screen: a remote compound tucked away in the woods, out of sight of the authorities.However, something felt strange as he began to compile information about the compound’s structure and security measures. Something wasn’t adding up; there was a deeper layer at play here. He focused on the financial transactions connected to Jonathan’s group and saw that the investigation went much beyond the typical suspects. These transactions contained names—big names, names of people far more powerful than Jonathan, names of people whose influe

Hunter felt a profound, pervasive fatigue as the adrenaline from the previous hours started to fade. As he lay in the safe house’s medical bay, his head ached, and the only sound in the clean space was the soft beep of equipment.For hours, Alamid had remained by his side, her hand still clasped around his, her vigilant eyes never leaving him. Despite the physicians’ efforts to stabilize him, she had not let go. Even though he had serious injuries, they were scarcely treatable. The sharp edges of the wound he had sustained were being dulled by the constant infusion of medicines in his system.Even though the medications were calming him down, his mind was still racing through what had just happened. The battle had been vicious and disorderly. However, they had saved the daughter of Ezekiel. No matter how minor, that was a win.But one reality kept coming back to Hunter’s mind: Jonathan had escaped. He had barely gotten away from them, slipping like water between their fingers.Alfred’

Olivia leaned back in the opulent leather chair, her fingers rapidly tapping across the polished table top. Her head was clear, analytical, always one step ahead. She had seen Hunter months ago, and the absence of his presence in the city troubled her. She had always been able to control the strings of her surroundings, but this time her sense of unfinished business gnawed at her—something about his leaving.Her eyelids closed as she peered out the big penthouse office windows. Benevolent and oblivious of the games she engaged in from above, the metropolis stretched beneath her. Her fingers hung over the phone, then she pressed the number she had committed long ago after a moment of doubt.The call went across.Olivia’s voice was soft, but underneath it there was a slight edge of something more deliberate. “Hunter.” She was ready to apply her acquired skills in seduction—both cerebral and emotional—now.Hunter’s voice on the other side of the line sounded sharp, direct. “Olivia”What