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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 127
Elias’ Lie?Julian’s smirk stretched slow and knowing, like he could see straight through me, peeling back the layers of my doubt, my rage, my fractured sense of self. His voice dripped with quiet satisfaction."Now," he murmured, tilting his head, "do you still want to kill me? Or do you want the real truth?"The words slithered into my mind, wrapping tight around the cracks already forming.The real truth.What did that even mean anymore? I had built my war against The Oath on what I believed to be right. I had fought, killed, and bled for this fight. But now, after everything—after the video of Elias, after hearing him say he had to break me, after watching myself on that screen pledging allegiance to the very thing I swore to destroy—Had I been fighting against myself this entire time?My fingers twitched toward my weapon, my body caught between instinct and hesitation. I needed to act, to move, but I didn’t.And that hesitation—It cost me.Julian moved.A whisper of motion, too
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 128
Unshaken ResolveJulian's knife shot toward my ribs, a blur of steel and intent.Instinct roared through me.I twisted at the last second, feeling the cold edge graze my side, but my grip clamped down on his wrist before he could drive the blade deeper. The pain burned where the blade had nicked me, but I ignored it. Pain is nothing. Hesitation is everything.Julian’s strength matched mine, his muscles coiled like steel cables as he pushed against my hold. The knife trembled between us, its tip barely an inch from my body. His smirk remained, but his eyes—sharp, predatory—were studying me, assessing me. Looking for weakness.I gritted my teeth. He won’t find any."Maybe I was one of you," I growled, my voice rough, unyielding. "But I made my choice."Julian let out a breathy chuckle, his amusement laced with something darker. "Did you?" he murmured. "Or did Elias make it for you?"The words hit like a fist to my gut.For a moment, everything blurred.Elias’ voice—steady, commanding—ec
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 129
Julian’s Last TrickJulian spat blood onto the floor, laughing even as he leaned against the console, his body barely holding itself together after our fight. The dim, pulsating red light of the emergency systems made his bruised face look even more sinister, his sharp smirk unfazed despite the blood trickling from his split lip."You fight like a man possessed," he mused, his voice hoarse but laced with amusement. "Elias really did break you."I towered over him, my chest rising and falling with each labored breath, my fists still tight with the remnants of rage. My body ached, but the adrenaline kept me upright. The alarms shrieked around us, a constant, high-pitched reminder that everything was on the verge of collapse.I ignored them.I grabbed Julian by the collar, dragging him up so our faces were inches apart. His breath was ragged, but his smirk remained."This ends now," I growled.Julian didn’t flinch. If anything, his grin deepened. "I was hoping you'd say that."I slammed
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 130
The Ultimate GambitMy hands flew over the console, fingers punching in commands as fast as my brain could process. The system was a labyrinth of encrypted firewalls and redundancies, but I had no choice—I had to override the failsafe before the countdown hit zero.Julian staggered back, still catching his breath, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think he was done. The man had spent years manipulating an empire into his vision of control. He wasn’t going to let me take it from him so easily.The screen flickered as I bypassed another security lock. Almost there."You think you can just delete it all, don’t you?" Julian’s voice was hoarse but laced with dark amusement. "You can’t destroy the system, Nathan."I didn’t look at him. "Watch me."He let out a dry chuckle, wiping blood from his chin. "You don’t get it. The Oath isn’t just data and networks. It’s people. Loyalty. If you erase the code, it doesn’t end. Someone else will step in to rebuild it. Someone worse than me."The screen fl
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 131
The EscapeThe explosion rattles through the steel framework of the building, sending a deafening roar through the air. Smoke and dust swirl around me, thick and suffocating, as I yank Julian forward. My grip on his arm is ironclad, his weight nearly dragging me down as we stumble toward the exit. The alarms scream in protest, red lights flashing like a heartbeat in crisis.“We need to move!” I shout over the chaos.Julian stumbles, nearly losing his footing, but I don’t let go. Not yet. He’s weak, blood staining the front of his torn shirt, but his sharp eyes dart toward the exit, calculating. He’s always calculating.Then, with a sickening groan, the ground beneath us trembles.Cracks spiderweb across the floor, and before I can react, the ground vanishes.The world tilts.My heart lurches into my throat as Julian disappears from my grasp, his body plunging into the darkness below. But at the last second, his fingers catch the jagged edge of the broken concrete.He dangles above the
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 132
The Outside World ReactsThe world holds its breath.For years, The Oath operated in the shadows, pulling strings no one saw, orchestrating chaos and control with quiet precision. But now—now it’s gone. Their network has collapsed.And the world is finally waking up to the aftermath.I sit in the dimly lit safe house, the television flickering with breaking news reports. My body still aches from the escape, every muscle screaming in protest, but I can’t look away. This is the moment we fought for, the one we bled for.But instead of relief, all I feel is unease.Every major news channel is covering the fallout. Governments are scrambling, intelligence agencies are in disarray, and the markets are responding in real-time—plunging, stabilizing, then plunging again.Some nations are celebrating, claiming victory against an invisible enemy they never knew existed. They see it as a win. A new beginning.Others? They're panicking.Because without The Oath’s hidden hand, the balance of power
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 133
The Missing PieceThe air in the hidden chamber is thick with dust and something heavier—something unspoken like the weight of the past pressing down on my shoulders. My fingers trail along the cold steel walls, feeling the faint vibrations of the server humming beneath the surface.This place wasn’t meant to be found.And yet, here I am.The only light comes from the glow of a single terminal at the center of the room. The screen flickers, waiting. A prompt blinks, an invitation, or a warning—I haven’t decided yet.Julian stands behind me, arms crossed. He hasn’t said a word since we entered, but I can feel his gaze burning into my back.We both know what this is.The last piece.The final thread in the web The Oath wove, hidden away in this forgotten chamber.I sit down slowly, my pulse steady but my mind racing. My hands hover over the keyboard before I finally type in the access code.A file appears on the screen.Just one.Its name stops me cold."Nathan’s Final Words."The room
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 134
The Past SpeaksThe screen crackles, distorting, before the voice comes through.My voice.But it’s not me. Not me standing here."You were right to betray The Oath."A chill slithers down my spine.Julian shifts beside me. His arms are crossed, his expression unreadable, but I can feel the tension radiating off him like heat from an open flame. I don’t turn to look at him. My eyes are locked on the screen, my pulse hammering in my ears."Finish what you started."Then silence.Nothing more.The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. I exhale slowly, but it does nothing to steady the unease clawing at my chest. The room feels smaller. The walls press in, the hum of the servers growing louder in the void the message left behind.Julian lets out a sharp breath. “Well. That’s not ominous at all.”I don’t answer. My fingers flex against the edge of the desk, cool metal grounding me, but my mind is a storm. I replay the words, searching for something deeper, some hidden meaning buri
Latest Chapter
CHAPTER 220
The Last ThoughtI stare at my reflection, my breath uneven, my eyes hollow. The glass is cracked—thin fractures running like veins across the surface, distorting my face. Fitting.The overhead light flickers, casting brief shadows across the room. It’s cold. Not the kind of cold that bites at your skin, but the kind that settles in your bones, that tells you something is coming. The kind that makes you wonder if it’s always been there, waiting.I press my palms against the sink, fingers curling against the porcelain. The weight in my chest isn’t fear. It isn’t regret. It’s something worse. A question with no answer.Behind me, the door creaks open. A slow, deliberate sound. My hand moves instinctively to my gun, but I already know who it is."That the last time you’re gonna check yourself out, Nathan?" a voice teases, rough with amusement.I smirk, though it feels foreign on my face. "Figured I should see what’s left of me before I walk out that door."Jackson leans against the doorf
CHAPTER 219
The End of the LineThe city is quiet. Too quiet.Not the kind of quiet that comes with peace, but the kind that signals something is about to break. It settles over the skyline, heavy, waiting. The streets are empty, but the ghosts of what I’ve built, of what I’ve destroyed, linger in the alleyways and shadowed corners.I stand at the edge of it all, watching from the rooftop of an old high-rise, the cold wind whipping against my face. Below me, the pieces are moving, each player stepping into position, some thinking they’re the ones holding the strings. They aren’t.They never were.Jackson shifts beside me, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He’s restless. Always is before things go south.“You sure about this?” he asks.I don’t answer right away. Because there’s no easy answer. No right one, either.He sighs, shaking his head. “You always do this. Get in too deep and think you can control every variable. But this—” he gestures to the streets below, to the quiet before the storm
CHAPTER 218
The Final MoveThe city is waiting.It doesn't know it yet, but the tides are shifting. Power doesn’t disappear; it transforms and morphs into something new, something unrecognizable until it’s already taken hold. I’ve seen it happen too many times to count. This time, I’m the one pulling the strings.This time, it ends on my terms.I stand in the shadows of an empty warehouse, the scent of oil and dust thick in the air. The city hums outside, its lights flickering through the gaps in the rusted metal walls. Jackson stands beside me, his body tense, arms crossed. He’s waiting for me to explain, to tell him what comes next.I let the silence stretch before I finally speak.“We’re not burning it down.”Jackson’s head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing. “What?”I meet his stare, my voice steady. “We’re not wiping the board clean. We’re flipping it.”For the first time in a long time, Jackson looks unsure. He shifts his weight, jaw tightening as he processes my words. “You said yourself—this
CHAPTER 217
The Final CrossroadsThe city hums beneath me, restless and alive. From this rooftop, I see everything—the neon glow stretching into the horizon, the winding streets below, the fractured heartbeat of a place that never stops moving. A world of light and shadow, built on secrets, power, and debts that can never truly be repaid.The air is thick with the scent of rain and asphalt, the faintest trace of gasoline lingering in the wind. It’s the smell of something on the verge of combustion, of a city always teetering on the edge of chaos. I tighten my grip on the cigarette between my fingers, watching the ember glow in the dark, a tiny heartbeat against the cold night. I don’t smoke. Not really. I just like the way it feels—holding something that’s burning, something that’s alive for just a little while before it fades into nothing.I should walk away.I should let it all burn.But I don’t.Because no matter how much I tell myself that I don’t care anymore, that none of it matters, the tr
CHAPTER 216
The Last Time He Sees RileyThe air is colder than I expected. Maybe that’s fitting. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.She’s already there when I arrive, standing near the edge of the pier, arms folded tight against the wind. The city sprawls behind her, all light and noise, but out here, it’s just the quiet lapping of the water and the space between us.Riley doesn’t turn when I approach.“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she says, her voice carrying over the water, calm but unreadable.I stop a few feet away. Close enough to feel the weight of her presence. Far enough to know I shouldn’t get any closer.“Neither was I,” I admit.She exhales a slow, steady breath. “You look the same.”“So do you.”A lie.There’s something different in her now. Something more guarded, more distant. Like she’s finally built the walls she should’ve had when we were younger.Like she’s learned.She turns, finally meeting my gaze, and for a moment, it’s just us. No past, no future. Just this one sliver of t
CHAPTER 215
The Fall of KingsThe thing about power is that it never learns.It moves through different hands, dresses itself in new suits, and speaks in fresh voices. But underneath, it’s always the same: greed, arrogance, and the inevitable mistake of thinking you can control what was never meant to be tamed.Ronan believed he could do it differently.I watch from the shadows as he proves himself wrong.---The city is quieter these days. Not because the storm has passed, but because it’s waiting to break.I see it in the way people move, the way deals are whispered instead of spoken. Ronan’s reign is still fresh, but already, the cracks are showing.And he doesn’t even realize it.Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just too proud to admit it.I’m standing outside a high-rise downtown, watching from across the street. Up there, behind floor-to-ceiling windows, Ronan is playing king. A meeting’s in progress—his men, his allies, his problems.He thinks he has time. He thinks he’s in control.He doesn’t
CHAPTER 214
The Last WarningThe city breathes differently when men like Ronan step into power.It’s a slow shift, subtle. The same streets, the same lights flickering over cracked pavement, the same late-night murmurs of business and betrayal. But there’s a tension now, a new weight pressing down like the first signs of a storm.I know it because I’ve felt it before. I did it before.Which is why I know exactly how this ends.---I picked the place. Neutral ground. A quiet, high-end bar tucked away in the heart of the city, the kind where power plays out in whispered deals and expensive whiskey. A place where men like Ronan feel at home.I sit in a booth at the far end, back to the wall, watching the entrance. He’s late. Not long enough to be disrespectful, just enough to establish control. Classic move.When he finally steps inside, he moves like he owns the place.Not in the way Cormac did, with brute force and intimidation. No, Ronan is more refined. His presence doesn’t demand attention—it i
CHAPTER 213
The New ProtégéThe city doesn’t rest, and neither do the people hungry for its power.Cormac is gone. Locked away, his empire dismantled, his influence reduced to nothing but whispers in the dark. And yet, before the dust has even settled, another one steps forward. It always happens this way.A cycle. A curse.I watch from the rooftop as the meeting below unfolds. A dozen figures sit around a long table in a high-rise suite, their silhouettes blurred by tinted windows. But it’s the one at the head of the table that has my full attention.Young. Too young.Sharp suit, sharper eyes. He moves like he owns the room—because he does. The way they lean in when he speaks, the way they nod, hesitant but obedient. He’s already in control.He reminds me of someone.Me.I exhale slowly, pressing my earpiece. "Evelyn, you getting this?"Her voice crackles through. "Loud and clear. Looks like we found our new kingpin."I don’t respond right away, just watch as he steeples his fingers, listening i
CHAPTER 212
The War That Never EndsThe Oath had fallen, but the world didn’t change. Not really.Power is a living thing—it doesn’t disappear; it mutates. It slithers, molds itself into new hands, new faces, new kings and queens who claim they’ll do better. I watch from the shadows as history repeats itself, over and over, like a bad song stuck on a loop.I blend into the dimly lit alleyway, my coat pulled tight against the cold bite of the city. Rain drips from the rusted gutters, forming puddles at my feet, but I barely notice. Across the street, men shake hands under the glow of a flickering street lamp, sealing deals in the same way their predecessors did—with quiet, well-dressed ruthlessness. Different players, same game.I should walk away.I promised myself I would.But ghosts don’t rest easy, and the ones I carry are especially loud.A gust of wind blows through the alley, ruffling my hair as I step back into the shadows. My ribs still ache from my last fight, and my knuckles are a canva
