Chapter 242

The hidden room within one of the Anderson safe houses was dimly lit, the shadows playing tricks on the walls as the faint glow from a single hanging lamp flickered. The old man sat at a large wooden table, worn maps, photographs, and blueprints sprawled out before him. His grizzled hands moved with precision, placing small figurines on the map—an exact replica of the city’s layout. Every inch of the table was covered in hand-drawn symbols, arrows, and notes, a battlefield meticulously crafted in his mind.

He leaned back, squinting as he surveyed his work. His sharp eyes scanned the routes, possible escape points, and ambush sites. This wasn’t just about capturing any ordinary criminal. This was about bringing down the mafia boss, a man who had evaded capture for years, lurking in the shadows, pulling strings. The old man’s lips twisted into a smirk as he envisioned the final move of his plan. He had seen men like this before in his time—untouchable, or so they thought.

The door creak