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Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 66
Shadows on the YachtThe yacht towered before them like a floating palace, its polished chrome railings gleaming under the soft twilight, the soft hum of generators breaking the silence of the sea. From the marina’s edge, Eleanor studied the sprawling decks through narrowed eyes, her breath shallow against the salty breeze.“Too many guards,” Silas muttered, crouching low behind a row of docked speedboats. The crimson uniforms of the security detail glinted against the yacht’s floodlights.Eleanor tugged at the stiff collar of her borrowed catering uniform, its tightness making it hard to breathe. “That’s why we blend in, not break in,” she whispered, adjusting her hat to hide her face.A soft splash echoed as Wyatt steered the small motorboat to the stern, its engine cut moments before they drifted silently into the yacht’s shadow. Silas passed Eleanor a small earpiece.“Stick to the plan. You hear anything, code names, transfer details, you tell me immediately.”She hesitated, finge
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 67
Ledger of Lies.Eleanor’s breath hitched as the heavy door creaked behind her, the thick ledger pressed tightly against her chest. The sharp scent of saltwater filled her nostrils, mingling with the acrid smell of oil from the yacht’s engine room. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but Crowe’s man blocked the only exit, broad-shouldered, his face a stone mask, his hand twitching near his jacket pocket.“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” His voice dripped with menace.Eleanor didn’t flinch. Her mind raced, weighing her options. “Just out for some fresh air,” she shot back, masking her fear with defiance.He lunged.Eleanor sidestepped, jamming her elbow into his ribs with a force that surprised even her. He staggered, gasping, but recovered fast, too fast. She dove low, sliding between his legs as he swung wide. The ledger scraped against the deck, but she didn’t stop. She scrambled up, boots pounding the metal grates as alarms blared in her head louder than any siren.Footsteps thunde
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 68
Escape from the Deep.Water exploded around Silas as he hit the ocean, the cold shocking the air from his lungs. The sinking yacht’s shadow loomed above, groaning as it tilted deeper into the abyss. He kicked hard, his hands slicing through the dark water as he fought toward the surface.Breaking through, Silas gasped, the salty air filling his lungs. “Eleanor! Margaret!” he shouted, spinning in the chaos.“Here!” Eleanor’s voice cracked through the night, followed by a frantic splash. She clung to a jagged piece of wreckage, the satchel with the ledger still strapped tight across her chest.Margaret surfaced nearby, coughing violently, her auburn hair plastered to her face. “I…..I’m fine!” she wheezed.A violent blast from the yacht’s engine room thundered through the ocean, sending a massive shockwave outward. Silas grabbed Eleanor’s arm, pulling her away as debris rained down. Flames licked across the water’s surface, oil from the sinking yacht igniting in a burning slick.“Swim, g
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 69
Clues in the Wreckage.Saltwater dripped from the edges of the container as Eleanor pried it open, her fingers trembling from a mixture of cold and adrenaline. Inside, beneath layers of waterproof lining, lay hard drives, stacks of sealed files, and a slim, black notebook. The pages glistened with moisture, but the contents were intact, handwritten notes in a sharp, slanted script, riddled with symbols and code.Silas crouched beside her, his soaked jacket leaving a dark imprint on the boat’s deck. “This isn’t just a list of transactions. This is Hartwell’s ledger,” he muttered, flipping through the pages.Eleanor’s pulse quickened. “Encrypted?”“Mostly. But some of it’s familiar, offshore account numbers, shipment routes. This here….” He tapped a page where a map was crudely sketched, red lines crossing the Atlantic. “This isn’t just about Hartwell. He’s moving product for the national syndicate.”Margaret leaned in, squinting at the codes. “These could be linked to the bank records
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 70
The Grand Disguise.The heavy velvet curtains of the study were drawn, casting long shadows across the polished oak table where Silas, Eleanor, and Margaret huddled over blueprints of Hartwell’s private estate. The flicker from the lone desk lamp danced across Eleanor’s face, deepening the tension already etched into her features.Margaret traced a finger along the estate’s sprawling layout, pausing at the central hall. “The gala’s happening here, ballroom’s massive. Multiple exits, chandeliers, and about a hundred ways to get caught.”Silas leaned over, squinting at the lines. His jaw clenched. “Hartwell’s not stupid. He’ll have security crawling everywhere.”Eleanor scoffed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course he will. This isn’t just a party, it’s his final act. The perfect façade.”“Or the perfect trap,” Silas shot back, his voice low.A beat of silence hung between them, heavy with the unspoken risks.Margaret broke it, her voice softer. “But it’s our shot.
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 71
A Price for Trust.The rain slicked city streets reflected a dull, silver light as Silas, Eleanor, and Violet huddled in the backroom of an abandoned warehouse. Shadows twisted along the concrete walls, their jagged edges mimicking the sharp tension in the air.Legs crossed, Violet sat rigidly on a splintered box, her fingers fiddling with a silver locket that gleamed with each movement. She measured Silas with her dark eyes, gauging the gap between loyalty and treachery. Her voice was low, like a thread about to break, and she stated bluntly, "I can give you everything on Hartwell's offshore accounts." "Account numbers, bank names, the soiled paper trail." Eleanor leaned forward, her auburn curls spilling over her shoulder. “But there’s a price.”Violet had a very narrow grin. "Protection." After this, Hartwell won't allow me just go. I need a fresh start, a new identity, and safe travel.Silas's mouth tightened. Dealing with ghosts was not something he enjoyed. Particularly those w
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 72
The Gala Invitation.The morning sun filtered through the dusty blinds, casting jagged shadows across the cluttered table. Silas laid the forged invitations flat, their elegant embossing glinting faintly under the weak light. The gala’s insignia, a serpent coiled around a laurel wreath, looked authentic, but it was the details beneath that carried the real weight.“Wyatt pulled strings for these,” Silas muttered, running a finger over the delicate print. “They’ll pass scrutiny, but only if we play it perfectly.”Eleanor sat across from him, flipping through the invitation with furrowed brows. Her dark hair framed her face, a storm of determination swirling in her eyes. “Perfect’s not really our strong suit.”Silas cracked a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we’ll fake it.”The plan was fragile, blending in with the country’s elite, among the corrupt politicians and syndicate leaders Hartwell had woven into his empire. One misstep and they’d be exposed before they even reached
Cinders of the Conspiracy Chapter 73
The Hidden Photos.The photos scattered across the table like jagged pieces of a puzzle Eleanor wished she didn’t have to solve. Her husband’s face stared back at her, a frozen smile twisted by grainy shadows. But it wasn’t the smile that hollowed her chest, it was the briefcase.In the photo, he stood under a flickering streetlamp, hand outstretched, the dark leather case bridging the distance between him and Hartwell. No hesitation. No fear.“Eleanor, look at his posture,” Silas said, leaning over her shoulder. “He’s not being forced.”She sucked in a breath, throat tight. “You don’t know that.”Silas’s jaw flexed. He pointed to another photo, her husband glancing over his shoulder, his eyes sharp, calculating. “That’s not a man under duress.”Eleanor’s mind reeled, clinging to the memories that suddenly felt slippery, his late nights, the cryptic phone calls, the way he brushed off questions with tired smiles.She muttered, "I…..I have to think he didn't know what he was doing." V
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
