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Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 48
Bullet in the Shadows.The deafening crack of a rifle split through the station’s thick air. The sound ricocheted off steel beams, sending a pulse of panic through the crowd. The bullet struck a column inches from Eleanor’s head, the impact spewing dust and stone fragments into her face.“Down!” Silas grabbed her by the arm, yanking her sideways.The second shot came before she could blink. It whizzed past, slicing through the shoulder of a man behind her. The stranger collapsed with a strangled cry, his blood splattering onto Eleanor’s coat.Silas shoved her behind an overturned luggage cart, shielding her with his own body. “Stay down,” he ordered, his breath ragged. His dark eyes darted across the concourse, scanning the upper floors. “Sniper’s got a high vantage. Likely the west balcony.”Eleanor’s heart slammed against her ribs. The station had erupted into chaos, passengers screamed, diving for cover, while others ran, trampling over abandoned suitcases. A woman clutched her chi
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 49
Interrogation and Revelation.The room was small, bare except for the metal table, a single dim light overhead casting long shadows against the cracked concrete walls. The sniper sat slouched in the chair, his wrists bound behind his back, his lip split from Wyatt’s earlier fist. He smirked despite the blood at the corner of his mouth.Silas stood across from him, arms crossed, gaze cold. “You’re going to tell us what Hartwell is planning.”The sniper chuckled. “Or what? You’ll break my bones?” He shifted in his seat. “Please. I’ve been through worse.”Wyatt leaned in, gripping the back of the chair, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You were caught. That means you’re disposable. You think Crowe or Hartwell will send a rescue team?” He scoffed. “You’re alone now. So maybe it’s time you think about self-preservation.”The sniper’s smirk faltered, just for a second. A crack in the armor.Silas seized the moment. “You said it was already in motion. What is? A hit? A bombing? A govern
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 50
The Road to New York.The dawn bled through the grimy windows of the hideout, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. A duffel bag lay open on the bed, half-packed with weapons, documents, and whatever cash they had left. Silas zipped his leather jacket, his face carved with exhaustion but his eyes sharp with resolve.With her arms folded, Eleanor stood close to the window, her silhouette silhouetted against the gloomy light. With a firm voice, she stated, "We depart in an hour." Silas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “New York’s a different battlefield. Hartwell has power there…..real power.”“I know.” Eleanor turned, her expression unreadable. “But we can’t afford to wait.”Margaret paced the length of the room, arms folded. “This is suicide,” she muttered. “Hartwell isn’t just some local kingpin. His reach extends beyond the city. You’re walking into a hornet’s nest.”Eleanor glanced at her. "So we had better be ready to get stung."Silas zipped the bag shut. “We’re no
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 51
A Friend’s Deception.The only sound in the room was the slight rustle of papers. Eleanor's heart pounded against her ribs as she flicked through the papers, her fingers shaking. The oil lamp's faint light illuminated the pages with sharp shadows, revealing Hartwell's syndicate's distinctive seal. She swallowed hard. Margaret.The realization cut deep. The neat scrawl in the margins was Margaret’s handwriting, elegant yet unmistakable. Page after page detailed their movements, safe houses, and planned attacks, everything fed straight into Hartwell’s hands.A lump formed in her throat as she reached the last page, a fresh ink stain bleeding through the fibers. "Final update. They suspect nothing."The air in the room thickened, pressing down on her like an invisible weight.Her palms clammy, she snapped the folder closed. For what length of time? What number of steps had been blocked? How many people have died as a result of this? Footsteps echoed down the hall. Eleanor barely had ti
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 52
The Shattered Bond.The tracker sat on the table, a tiny metallic viper coiled in silence, waiting. Silas studied it under the dim glow of the oil lamp, his fingers tightening around his knife. He had seen devices like this before, too many times.Eleanor hovered near the edge of the room, arms crossed tightly. “Just break the damn thing,” she whispered, her voice thick with urgency. “Destroy it before…..”Silas didn’t wait. With a single, sharp twist of his wrist, the blade sliced through the device’s casing. A faint crackle followed, then a blinking red light flickered, once, twice before dying.For a second, there was only silence.Then, the radio near the window crackled.Wyatt turned his head, his expression darkening. He grabbed the receiver and pressed it to his ear. The color drained from his face. “Damn it.”Eleanor’s heart pounded. “What?”Wyatt hesitated. “They know. The second you cut that thing open, it sent a final pulse.” He turned to Silas. “You just confirmed our loca
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 53
A Risky Rescue.Eleanor’s voice cut through the thick tension in the dimly lit safe house. “I’m not leaving her to die.”Silas paced, his jaw tight, his fingers curled into fists. “She betrayed us, Eleanor. If we go after her, we’re walking straight into a trap.”Wyatt leaned against the wooden table, arms crossed, watching them with narrowed eyes. “Silas isn’t wrong,” he said finally. “Crowe’s expecting us to do exactly this.”Eleanor took a step forward, refusing to back down. “She stayed behind to buy us time. If she really wanted us dead, she wouldn’t have risked herself. And now she’s out there, alone, with that monster.”Silas turned, his dark eyes sharp with frustration. “And what if she’s still playing both sides? What if she’s leading us into an ambush?”Eleanor’s chest burned with anger. “I know Margaret. Whatever mistakes she made, she wouldn’t have let herself get caught unless she was trying to make things right.”Wyatt exhaled, rubbing his temple. “This is insanity.”Ele
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 54
Margaret’s Redemption.The air in the safe house was thick with unspoken words. Margaret sat at the edge of the worn-out sofa, fingers curled around a steaming cup of tea she hadn't touched. Her eyes flickered between Eleanor and Silas, searching for something, trust, understanding, maybe forgiveness.Silas stood near the window, arms crossed, gaze locked on the city beyond. He didn’t trust her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.Margaret inhaled deeply and placed the cup on the table. “Hartwell doesn’t work alone,” she said finally, her voice steady but burdened. “He has a council, six men, each overseeing different sectors of his empire. Drugs, weapons, government payoffs, trafficking, he controls it all through them.”Eleanor leaned forward. “Names?”Margaret nodded. “Vance Delacroix. Former senator turned fixer. Luca D’Amico, runs the docks, controls what comes in and out of the city. Richard Vale, a judge on Hartwell’s payroll. Those three are the worst.” She hesitated, licking her lips. “
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 55
Echoes of the Past.The room was silent except for the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Silas sat at the table, staring at the name on the document like it was a ghost rising from the past. Jameson Rourke. The name pulsed in his mind, each letter carrying a weight he hadn’t felt in years.Eleanor stood beside him, arms folded, watching his reaction carefully. “You knew him,” she stated.Silas rubbed his temples and let out a deep breath. "More than that," he stated in a tense tone. "I looked into him." Margaret and Wyatt exchanged glances. “Investigated?” Wyatt leaned in. “As a cop?”Silas shook his head. “Before that. When I was a journalist.”Margaret’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “You were a journalist?”He didn’t acknowledge the question, his mind too tangled in the memory. “Rourke was a businessman or at least, that’s what he pretended to be. He had ties to organized crime, but no one could pin anything on him. I spent months digging into his connections, following
Latest Chapter
Chapter 100
The Price of Justice.Eleanor gritted her teeth as she slammed her back against the metal crates, gripping the pistol tighter in her hands. The warehouse was a warzone, gunfire ricocheted off steel, shouting filled the air, and the acrid scent of smoke stung her nose.She stole a glance around the corner. Five men, heavily armed. Hartwell’s remaining enforcers, the last line protecting his precious shipment.Her radio crackled. “Eleanor, we’re almost there,” Silas’s voice, weak but determined. “Hold them off.”Her eyes flickered toward the metal briefcase near the truck. The evidence. Documents, transaction logs, everything they needed to bring Hartwell down.The men advanced.She took a breath, steadying her aim. Then, she moved.Two shots. The first took out the closest man, his rifle clattering to the ground. The second hit another in the leg not enough.He swung his weapon toward her, but Eleanor was faster. She lunged, knocking him off balance, slamming the butt of her gun into h
Chapter 99
Race Against Time.The air in the dimly lit motel room was thick with tension. Papers littered the small wooden table, maps marked with frantic scribbles. A single laptop screen glowed, casting eerie shadows over the determined faces surrounding it.Silas leaned forward, his knuckles pressed against the table. His voice was low, commanding. “Hartwell is moving the shipment by train. We intercept at the junction near Brighton before he reaches the border.”The FBI agent, Calloway, nodded. His grizzled face betrayed years of experience. “We’ll have tactical units in place, but we need a precise point of entry. If we storm in too early, he’ll vanish again. Too late, and the shipment’s gone.”Margaret pointed to a section on the map. “Here. The terrain forces the train to slow. It’s the only place we’ll have a real shot.”Eleanor, arms crossed, locked eyes with Silas. “And if he’s waiting for us?”Silas exhaled through his nose. “Then we play it smart.”A knock at the door. Three slow tap
Chapter 98
Hartwell’s Vanishing Act.The night pressed heavy against the city, the neon glow of streetlights barely reaching the shadowed corners of the safe house. Silas paced, phone pressed against his ear, pulse hammering. Across the room, Eleanor sat rigid, eyes locked on him, waiting for answers.A voice crackled through the line. Agent Calloway. His tone was flat, but the urgency was undeniable.“He’s gone underground, Silas. And not alone. Hartwell has federal protection. High-ranking officials are helping him disappear.”Silas clenched his jaw. “You’re telling me we lost him because some corrupt bastards are covering his tracks?”“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Calloway confirmed. “This isn’t just a syndicate anymore. It’s bigger than we thought. Someone with power wants Hartwell alive.”Eleanor stood, tension rolling off her in waves. “Did you track his last movements?”Calloway hesitated. “That’s the problem. He didn’t leave the city.”Silas exhaled sharply. “What?”“He’s here.
Chapter 97
The Chaos Unleashed.The grand ballroom had become a war zone. Shattered glass crunched beneath fleeing footsteps, chairs overturned, bodies surged toward the exits. Screams rang through the air, blending into the shrill alarm that pulsed through the speakers.Silas gritted his teeth as he pushed forward, gripping Eleanor’s wrist. The crowd was moving against them, bodies pressing in from all sides. They had to reach Hartwell before he disappeared into the chaos.“There!” Eleanor pointed.Through the shifting sea of people, Hartwell’s silver-gray suit stood out as he moved toward a side door, two armed men flanking him. His face was calm, too calm. He knew something they didn’t.Silas didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, shoving a man out of his way, ignoring the protests. Eleanor followed, eyes sharp, lips pressed together in a thin line. They were running out of time.Then, a gunshot.A chandelier shattered overhead, sending shards raining down. The crowd screamed louder, panicking f
Chapter 96
The Celebration’s Cover-Up.The ballroom was a spectacle of wealth, crystal chandeliers dripping with gold light, violins weaving a delicate symphony above the murmuring crowd. Silas adjusted the cuff of his suit, the unfamiliar fabric tight against his skin. He hated events like these. Too many eyes, too many masks.Eleanor, draped in a floor-length black gown that clung to her form like shadow, moved beside him, a vision of elegance. But Silas knew better. She was a blade wrapped in silk, sharp and waiting.With her lips hardly moving, she held a champagne glass and said, "Calm down." "You should be a journalist, not a man on his way to death." Silas exhaled, scanning the room. Too many familiar faces, men he’d rather see behind bars.Near the bar, a cluster of men stood huddled in hushed conversation. Their suits were expensive, their postures rigid. Syndicate men.Silas angled his body toward them, listening.“…shipment lands tomorrow. Late night drop.”“Security?”“Tighter than
Chapter 95
The Safe House Secrets.Margaret pulled open the rusted cabinet doors, her breath shallow as a cloud of dust erupted into the air. The safe house had been untouched for years, but the lingering presence of recent intruders suggested otherwise.Wyatt knelt beside her, flashlight aimed at the back of the cabinet. “There’s something here.” His fingers brushed against a loose panel, and with a firm tug, the wood gave way, revealing a metal lockbox.Margaret glanced toward the door, paranoia curling around her spine. “We need to move fast.”Wyatt nodded, pulling his switchblade from his boot and jamming it into the lock. The steel creaked, resisting, but after a few forceful twists, the mechanism snapped.Inside, stacks of documents lay in neat, organized rows, ledgers, transaction records, names.Margaret’s stomach twisted.“These aren’t just records,” she whispered, flipping through the pages. The names were tagged with locations, New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Los Angeles. It wasn’t just a
Chapter 94
The Informant’s Shadow.Silas paced the dimly lit hotel room, the weight of Delano’s warning pressing on him like a vice. His thoughts churned, replaying every conversation, every movement within their group. Someone had been feeding Hartwell information. But who?Eleanor sat on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed. “You’re being paranoid,” she said, watching Silas with narrowed eyes. “We’ve been through hell together. No one in our group would sell us out.”Silas ceased his pacing. Then describe how Hartwell constantly appears to be ahead of the game. How was the gala known to him? The penetration of the office? Why did Crowe's soldiers wait at the docks for us? He let out a breath and wiped his face. "If we don't find out who is telling him everything, we're dead." Eleanor shook her head. “Margaret would never betray us. She’s risked her life more than once.”Silas clenched his jaw. “I’m not saying it’s Margaret.”Eleanor stiffened. “Then who?”Silas hesitated. His gut twisted as
Chapter 93
Behind Enemy Lines.Silas adjusted his bowtie, scanning the glittering crowd with practiced ease. A jazz band played soft notes from the far end of the ballroom, masking the hum of conversation. The air was thick with wealth and power, business moguls and politicians clinking glasses, exchanging handshakes that meant deals far deadlier than anyone here would admit.Eleanor, in a sleek black gown, moved beside him, her expression calm but eyes constantly shifting. She looked every bit the poised journalist she was pretending to be. “Keep walking,” she murmured. “Eyes forward. Don’t react.”Silas followed her gaze. A security team had just entered from the side doors, Crowe’s men. Dressed in suits, but their stiff postures and wary glances gave them away. They weren’t here to mingle. They were hunting.Silas exhaled. “They don’t know who we are yet.”“Yet.” Eleanor’s fingers grazed his wrist, subtle but urgent. “We need to stay near the press section.”He nodded. They slipped through th
Chapter 92
Into the Lion’s Mouth.Silas spread the blueprint across the table, the faded paper smudged with ink and cigarette stains. The layout of the ballroom gleamed under the dim light. Eleanor leaned in, eyes scanning the pathways, the exits, the blind spots. Every inch of that space had to be committed to memory."We’ll go in through the back entrance," Silas said, tapping the map with the end of his pen. "Press credentials will get us past the first checkpoint, but once we're inside, we’re on our own."Eleanor folded her arms. "And when we get to Hartwell?"Silas sighed. "That’s the tricky part. We need to get close enough to extract something solid video, audio, anything incriminating. The moment we do, we slip out before his security realizes we're not supposed to be there."Margaret scoffed from across the room. "And if he already suspects us?"Silas exchanged a glance with Eleanor. That possibility had been weighing on them both."We improvise," Eleanor said. Her voice was firm, but i
