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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 191
The Unraveling BeginsThe world is burning.I can see it unraveling in real-time—the system shaking, the balance tipping, power slipping through the cracks like water through clenched fingers. If I close my eyes, I can almost hear Julian’s voice whispering in the back of my mind. “You thought you were different?”I want to tell him yes. I want to believe that what I did was right. But when the smoke clears, the only thing left is chaos.The news channels scream the truth I dragged into the light—The Oath was never just a myth, never just a shadow in the dark. It was real, it was powerful, and now that I’ve ripped the curtain away, the world is reeling from the exposure. Governments deny their involvement. Intelligence agencies disavow knowledge. Crime syndicates scramble, some falling, some rising, and some adapting with terrifying ease.And me? I’m the man who detonated the bomb and now has to live with the fallout.The streets aren’t safe for me anymore. My name is plastered on ever
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 192
Ghosts in the WindThe city never sleeps. Not for men like me.I move through the back alleys of Manhattan, shadows swallowing me whole. The cold bites through my jacket, but I barely feel it. My mind is elsewhere—on the sniper who saved me, on the silhouette, I’d know anywhere.Riley.She was here. Watching. Protecting. But she didn’t stay.I tell myself it’s for the best. That I should let her go. That she deserves peace, a life away from the wreckage I leave behind. But the hollow ache in my chest makes a liar out of me.The Oath is gone. I should feel relief. Should feel like I won. Instead, the city hums with a new kind of tension, an undercurrent of something shifting. Something worse.Power doesn’t die—it just changes hands.I slip into an abandoned building near the docks, my temporary hideout. It’s a skeleton of its former self—broken windows, rotting wood, the scent of mildew and time. It suits me. I feel just as worn down.The floor groans under my boots as I move deeper in
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 193
The First BetrayalPain flares in my side, sharp and burning. Blood seeps between my fingers, warm and sticky. I press my palm against the wound, gritting my teeth as I stumble forward. The cold air bites at my skin, and every breath sends fire through my ribs.I’ve been in worse situations.But this time, it’s different.Because this time, it wasn’t an enemy who pulled the trigger.It was someone I trusted.I keep moving, one foot in front of the other, my boots splashing through the rain-soaked alley. The stench of garbage and damp concrete fills my lungs, mixing with the coppery tang of my own blood. My vision blurs at the edges, but I don’t slow down.Not when I can hear them behind me.A low murmur of voices. The quick, controlled footsteps of men who know exactly what they’re doing.They’re not rushing.They think I’m already finished.I tighten my grip on the gun in my left hand, forcing my fingers to stop shaking. My right arm is useless—blood trickles down my sleeve from the
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 194
The Burden of LeadershipThe city is burning.Not in the literal sense—no fire licks the sky, no smoke blackens the moon—but the decay is everywhere. I watch from the shadows as men once cowering under The Oath now step forward, eager to claim their piece of a broken world. They wear fine suits and slick smiles, but I see them for what they are. Predators. Opportunists.I thought removing myself from the equation would give people a chance to rise on their own. I thought the order would remain without me. I was wrong.From my vantage point above the streets, I see deals being made in alleys, whispered agreements exchanged over fine wine in restaurants that used to house men I had control over. The Oath was more than just a structure; it was a spine, holding this place together. Now, without it—without me—it crumbles.I clench my fists. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.A scream pierces the night below. A woman, no older than twenty, is being dragged into an unmarked car. The men p
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 195
The Whisper of Riley’s NameThe message arrives at midnight.I don’t notice it at first. The night is quiet—too quiet. The city, though stitched together again under my rule, still carries the weight of its wounds. Men obey, but I see it in their eyes. The fear. The uncertainty. They wonder if I have changed if I have become something else entirely.Maybe I have.I sit in the dim glow of my office, the whiskey in my glass untouched, my mind heavier than my body. The room around me is still the same—dark wood, cold steel, a fortress of power. But something in the air shifts when my phone vibrates on the desk.A single text. No number. No trace.Was it worth it?The words are ice in my veins.My grip tightens on the glass. The whiskey sloshes but doesn’t spill.Riley.It’s not signed. No indication it’s from her. But the whisper of her name crawls into my mind, relentless, refusing to be ignored.I stare at the screen, my breath slowing.Could it be her? After all this time?I left that
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 196
The Enemy WithinThe betrayal comes in whispers first.I hear it in the way conversations die when I enter a room. In the way men who once stood by me now hesitate before meeting my eyes. A shift too subtle for most to notice—but I do.It starts with Tommy.We stand in my office, the city stretching beyond the windows, a kingdom I built from the ruins of the Oath. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, his usual sharpness dulled by something heavier.He’s waiting for me to speak first.That’s when I know.“You have something to say,” I tell him, watching every movement, every flicker of hesitation.He exhales through his nose, a slow breath. “They’re talking, Nathan.”“I know.”His jaw tightens. “Do you?”I tilt my head, studying him. “Go on.”He straightens, pushing off the desk, his voice lower now. “They don’t think you’re different from Julian anymore.”The words hit, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I let them settle between us, let him feel the weight of what he’s just said.T
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 197
The Breaking PointRiley’s voice is the only thing I hear."Was it worth it?"The words coil around my throat like a noose, tightening with every decision, every step forward into the wreckage I created.I stand in the ruins of what used to be order. The Oath is fractured—some remnants still loyal, others dead, and the rest waiting in the shadows for the next move. The city is no better. Chaos seeps into the cracks I left behind. The corrupt take what they can. The desperate cling to anything that looks like control.And here I am, standing in the center of it all, holding the pieces of something I no longer recognize."Boss."The voice pulls me back. Vieny. One of the last men still standing beside me.He gestures toward the phone in my hand. "You gonna answer that?"I glance down. Unknown number.It rings again.I don’t answer.Vieny watches me, arms crossed, waiting for a decision. A real decision. Not the half-measures I’ve been taking, not the waiting game I’ve been playing since
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 198
The Cost of PowerThe blood on my hands is still warm.It drips between my fingers, staining my skin in a way I know won’t wash off. I’ve killed before. More times than I can count. I’ve executed, punished, and sent men to their graves without a second thought.But this one is different.The body at my feet isn’t just another enemy. It isn’t a nameless threat, a faceless opponent. It’s one of mine. A soldier. A traitor.And for the first time in a long time, I feel something close to doubt.The room is silent, save for the rhythmic sound of my breathing. I don’t know when I started counting each inhale, each exhale, but it’s the only thing keeping me tethered.Vinny stands across from me; arms crossed, jaw locked, his expression unreadable. But I know him well enough to see what he’s not saying."Was it necessary?"I already know the answer."Say it," I murmur, breaking the silence.Vieny exhales through his nose. "Say what?""You think I’m becoming him."His eyes flicker, just for a
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
