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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 35
A Desperate MoveThe rain hit like needles as Riley and I moved through the ruined streets, the city looming around us like a graveyard of forgotten battles. Our breath came in ragged clouds, exhaustion clinging to us like a second skin. We had nothing left—no base, no safety, no solid ground beneath our feet.All we had was a plan. A desperate, reckless, probably suicidal plan.I checked the stolen datapad again, its screen flickering in the dim light. The coordinates were set. A black site. One of The Oath’s hidden facilities, buried deep beneath the city. If we could get inside, we might finally understand Julian’s endgame.Or we might not make it out at all.Riley adjusted the strap of her rifle, eyes scanning the darkened skyline. "You sure about this?""No," I admitted. "But do we have a choice?"Her jaw tightened. "Not really."That was the problem. There was no other move left. Julian had forced our hand, cutting us off, hunting us like animals. If we wanted to hit back, we ha
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 36
The Frame JobThe city was burning.I stood on the rooftop, the acrid scent of smoke thick in the air, watching the fires spread like veins of destruction through the streets below. Sirens screamed in the distance. The chaos was everywhere—explosions ripping through buildings, civilians running in terror, bodies on the ground, unmoving.And above it all, my face.It was on every screen, plastered across digital billboards, flashing through the emergency broadcast system. A grainy video looped on repeat—masked figures planting explosives, a final shot of a man walking away, face turned toward the camera. My face."Nathaniel Vale—the terrorist behind tonight’s attack," the anchor’s voice declared. "Authorities are urging all citizens to remain indoors. If you see him, do not engage. He is armed and extremely dangerous."My jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.Julian.I should’ve known. He didn’t just want to kill me—he wanted to destroy me. He wanted the entire world to believe I was t
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 37
HuntedThe explosion sent us sprawling.Heat seared my back as the shockwave ripped through the alley, fire licking up the sides of buildings like hungry beasts. My ears rang, drowning out everything but the wild thumping of my pulse. I hit the ground hard, my shoulder slamming into concrete.Riley landed beside me, coughing, eyes wide with alarm. Smoke curled around us, thick and suffocating. Somewhere beyond the flames, I heard voices—sharp, commanding. The Oath’s soldiers.They were closing in.I grabbed Riley’s wrist, hauling her up. “Move!”We stumbled through the wreckage, bodies scattered in the street, alarms blaring from every direction. Glass crunched underfoot. My ribs ached with every breath, but adrenaline shoved the pain aside.Riley coughed, her voice hoarse. “They were waiting for us.”No kidding. Julian wasn’t just hunting me anymore. He was tightening the noose.A spotlight cut through the smoke."Target located!"Bullets shredded the ground inches from our feet. We
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 38
Buried SecretsThe safe house was nothing more than a forgotten storage bunker buried beneath an old factory. The air smelled of rust and damp concrete, and dust coated every surface like a film of neglect. It wasn’t much, but after the last seventy-two hours of running, bleeding, and barely breathing, it felt like a sanctuary.Riley dropped her bag with a heavy thud and exhaled sharply. "We’ll be safe here. For now."I ran a hand over my face, exhaustion pressing down on me like lead. My ribs still ached from the last fight, my knuckles raw from too many close calls. Every muscle in my body screamed for rest, but my mind wouldn’t let me stop. Not yet.Something was wrong.I felt it like an itch at the base of my skull, a whisper just out of reach.I slumped into a chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Julian’s playing a long game. This isn’t just about killing us. He’s digging at something deeper."Riley crossed her arms. "And you think it has to do with me."I met her gaze. "I know
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 39
FracturesRiley’s footsteps echoed through the bunker as she paced, her movements sharp and restless. The classified document sat open on the table between us like a loaded weapon, its presence heavier than the concrete walls surrounding us."You need to say something," she finally demanded, arms crossed, voice taut with frustration.I exhaled, fingers flexing against the table. My heartbeat felt too loud in my ears. "I don’t know what to tell you, Riley. I don’t remember any of this.""That’s exactly the problem!" She turned to face me, her expression raw. "Your name is in that file, Nathan. Project Orion. Memory alteration trials. What if The Oath didn’t just erase my past—what if they erased yours too?"I shook my head, but the motion felt unsteady. "I would know if my mind had been tampered with.""Would you?" she shot back. "Because I wouldn’t. And apparently, I was part of it too."I dragged a hand through my hair, my pulse pounding. The truth should’ve been simple. I was the on
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 40
Nowhere Left to RunThe underground safe house smelled of damp concrete and old metal, a far cry from the sterile, clinical hell that had just unraveled in my mind. I sat against the cold wall, staring at my hands—hands that suddenly felt like they didn’t belong to me. The flickering light overhead buzzed, casting long shadows that crawled across the floor.Across from me, Riley sat stiffly on a crate, her fingers laced together so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She hadn’t said much since we escaped. That silence burned more than any bullet ever could.I exhaled. "You haven’t looked at me the same since the bunker."Her gaze flickered to me, but she didn’t argue. She didn’t even try to deny it."You told me yourself," she said quietly. "You think you used to work for them.""I think, Riley. I don’t know." I ran a hand through my hair, frustration curling inside me. "That memory—it wasn’t a choice. It was forced into my head, ripped out like it was never supposed to be found."
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 41
The InterrogationThe room smelled of sweat and blood, a metallic tang that clung to the air like an unshakable omen. The Oath agent was slumped in the chair, wrists bound with zip ties, a bruise blooming across his jaw where Riley had introduced him to the stock of her rifle. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes—sharp, calculating—watched me with something that felt uncomfortably close to recognition.I leaned against the table, letting the silence stretch between us. The dim light cast long shadows over his face, but I could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t fear. It was something worse.Amusement."You gonna start talking," I said, voice low, steady, "or do we have to do this the hard way?"The agent—mid-forties, lean build, a scar running from his temple to his cheekbone—exhaled sharply, almost laughing. "There’s a hard way?" His voice was rough, like he’d swallowed glass years ago and never quite recovered.I grabbed the back of his chair and yanked hi
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 42
Unfinished BusinessSomething was off with Riley.I had noticed it for days—the way she avoided looking me in the eye, the way conversations between us had started to feel like we were walking on thin ice. Every time I thought I could close the distance between us, she pulled back, like she was protecting something. Or someone.She was keeping a secret.I just didn’t know what it was.We were hiding in a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, tucked between the ruins of an old shipping yard and a train depot long abandoned. It wasn’t much, but it was shelter. The concrete walls were thick, the roof intact, and the world outside had bigger problems than checking every forgotten building.For now.We were running out of time. The Oath had tightened its grip on the city, flooding the streets with patrols, checkpoints, and security drones. We had no allies left. No safe houses. Only each other.And now, I wasn’t even sure I had that.I sat on the floor, my back against a rusted steel sup
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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
