The night air carried a damp chill as Walker pulled the hood of his jacket tighter around his face. His pulse was steady, but his mind was anything but. He had been careful, erasing his tracks, moving like a ghost through the city. But ghosts still left whispers, and he knew someone—somewhere—was listening.A payphone stood at the corner of a near-empty street, a relic of a time when anonymity was still possible. Now, it was his last chance. He exhaled, his breath misting in the cold, and stepped into the booth. The fluorescent light above flickered erratically, buzzing like an insect trapped behind glass. A bad omen. But there was no turning back.He reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the handful of coins he had scavenged. He fed them into the slot, the mechanical chime of each dropping coin feeling heavier than it should. Then, he dialed.Jett.The name itself carried weight. Jett had been a myth among those who operated in the shadows—a hacker so skilled that even the

Dr. Graham never wanted so much attention. The shooting in the hospital had already drawn the police, but the journalists made things worse. They swarmed the entrance, shoving microphones in his face, asking relentless questions. He gave them as little information as possible, spinning the story to his advantage.“A psycho,” he told them. “He stormed the hospital, disturbing everyone. He even shot at the security guards.”The reporters pressed for more details. “What does he want?” one of them asked.Dr. Graham hesitated. Accusing Walker of theft was ridiculous—who steals from a hospital? Instead, he painted him as a dangerous lunatic. “Steve Walker is unstable. He’s a threat to everyone.”Inside, the hospital staff moved with precision under Graham’s orders. Nurses scrubbed every inch of the building, ensuring no trace of the chaos remained. The bodies used for organ harvesting were hastily concealed in a secret enclosure. The tiny refrigerated boxes containing stolen organs were hid

Ramirez and Oscar burst through the precinct’s heavy glass doors, the small, rain-speckled box clutched tightly in one arm. The lobby’s din was punctuated by the booming audio of the station’s massive TV screen. There, a news report blared live images of a man—the so-called Walker—being denounced by a sharp-tongued journalist and a calm, cold Dr. Graham. The reporter’s voice, heavy with accusation, labeled Walker a ferocious Psycho, a man who had turned his escape into an act of defiance.Ramirez’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed every word. In his mind, the driver who had hurt him on that slick, rain-drenched road was far different. He recalled the nervous twitch in the young man’s eyes, the way his face contorted as he bit into Ramirez’s hand—something that didn’t match the pointed features the TV now described. Instead, the man he’d seen had a round face, a scruffy beard, and an unpredictable glint that spoke of desperation, not calculated menace.Inside the busy station, fellow offic

Halfway across the city, in the cramped apartment bathed in neon flicker and rain-smeared windows, Nina sat motionless, her mind swirling with dangerous possibilities. The remnants of her earlier conversation with Walker still echoed in her ears—his desperate tone, the vulnerable confession that he would do anything to rescue Elizabeth. But now, as she stared into the dim reflection in the cracked mirror, a different plan took shape in her mind.Nina’s thoughts were a tangled web of greed, jealousy, and long-held resentment. She had always admired Walker, the man whose charm had once made her heart race. Yet when Elizabeth—so pure, so undeserving in Nina’s eyes—snatched him away, it left a festering wound of envy and betrayal. The bitter taste of rejection fueled her now. She knew that if she played her cards right, she could lure Walker straight into Dr. Graham’s trap and finally claim what she believed was rightfully hers.In her head, the plan was simple. Dr. Graham and his inner c

Ramirez’s mind churned as he replayed the scene of the untouched box and Moreno’s abrupt departure. In the cold, fluorescent light of the evidence room, he stared at the box—its damp, softened edges a silent promise of secrets hidden within. His heart pounded not only from the wound on his hand but from the betrayal he felt. Just minutes ago, his captain had been eager to pry open the evidence; now, a single mysterious call had twisted his priorities.Unable to swallow the bitter taste of doubt, Ramirez resolved to find answers on his own. When the precinct emptied, he retraced his steps through the darkened corridors, his pulse hammering in his ears. There, in a forgotten break room, he pulled out his personal phone and dialed a number he hadn’t used in years—a trusted friend once embedded in the department’s inner workings.“I need every scrap of information on Moreno’s recent communications,” he whispered. “Someone’s feeding him orders from the shadows, and I intend to find out who