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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 50
The Final StandGunfire shreds the silence, tearing through the walls as Riley and I dive behind cover. The room is a warzone—bullets ricocheting, smoke curling in the air, the scent of gunpowder thick in my lungs. My pulse hammers in my ears, each beat counting down to our last breath if we don’t find a way out.Riley reloads, her movements sharp, controlled—her mask slipping back into place even as her hands shake. “We’re surrounded.”I risk a glance over the overturned table shielding us. Black-clad operatives fan out, moving with precision. Julian’s personal soldiers.Figures. He always did like playing with his own pieces on the board.My jaw clenches. “Not for long.”I twist out of cover, firing two shots. One drops an enemy instantly. The other staggers but keeps moving, armored vest absorbing the impact. Damn it.Riley curses under her breath and fires beside me, her bullets finding a weak spot between plates. The second soldier collapses. “We need an exit.”“No kidding.”Ther
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 51
The ChoiceI stare at the device in Julian’s hand, my pulse pounding like a war drum in my ears. It’s small, unassuming—just a sleek silver disk no larger than my palm—but the weight of what it holds presses against my chest like a stone. My past. My erased memories. The truth.Julian’s expression is unreadable, but his grip on the device is tight, fingers curled around it like a lifeline. Or a weapon.“This is it, Nathan,” he says, voice smooth but edged with something I can’t quite name. “Everything you lost. Everything they took from you.”Riley stands to my right, her breath hitching. I don’t need to look at her to know she’s struggling. I feel it in the way she shifts her weight, in the slight tremor in the air between us.“Nathan, you don’t have to do this,” she says softly.I swallow hard. The weight of the choice presses down on me.My entire life has been a puzzle with missing pieces, a story half-told. I remember waking up in that cold, sterile room with no past, no identity
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 52
Fragments of the PastFire explodes behind my eyes.I stagger, breath ripping from my lungs as the device floods my brain with memories long buried, long erased. It’s like a dam breaking inside me, years of forgotten moments crashing over me in violent waves.Gunfire.Blood.Screams.My body jerks as images slam into me one after the other—too fast, too sharp, cutting through my mind like shattered glass. My heart pounds, my knees buckle, and for a terrifying second, I don’t know where I am.A rooftop, rain slamming against my skin. The acrid smell of gunpowder thick in the air.A dark alley, my hands covered in something warm.A face—blurred, just out of reach—eyes wide, lips parting to speak.Then—A body.On the ground.And me. Standing over it.My stomach twists violently. I stumble backward, barely aware of Riley’s voice calling my name. The floor beneath me tilts, and I crash against the wall, gasping for air.No. No, this can’t be real.“Nathan.”Julian’s voice is smooth, delib
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 53
The Forgotten NameThe name lingers on the edge of my mind like a half-formed thought, a whisper slipping through my fingers every time I try to grasp it. My pulse pounds as I press my fingers to my temples, desperate to force the memory into place.Riley’s hand clutches my wrist. “Nathan, stop.” Her voice is tight, pleading. “You don’t have to do this.”I jerk my arm away. “I have to.” My voice is sharper than I intend, but the pressure in my skull is unbearable. “I need to know.”Julian watches, his dark eyes unreadable. He’s always been the composed one, the one who knows things no one else does. But tonight, even he hesitates. The flickering candlelight casts jagged shadows across his face, making his expression look almost… regretful.His lips part, and the moment stretches, long and unbearable.Then he says it.“Her name was Evelyn.”A rush of cold spreads through my veins. The world tilts, my balance shifting as if the ground beneath me has suddenly vanished.Evelyn.The name c
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 54
The Puppet MasterJulian’s words landed like a blade slicing through my gut. The Oath’s top assassin. Me.I staggered back, my breath shallow, my pulse pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. No. It couldn’t be.“I told you, Nathan. The truth would break you.” Julian’s voice was eerily calm, a contrast to the storm raging inside me. “You were their finest weapon. Precise. Unstoppable. And when they realized you were hesitating—when they knew you cared for Evelyn—they took that choice away.”I wanted to deny it, to rip apart his words before they could take root, but something dark and terrible clawed its way into my mind. Flickers of memory. A cold, sterile room. Restraints biting into my wrists. A voice, flat and emotionless. Obey.The whisper coiled around me like a snake. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms.“They reprogrammed you, Nathan,” Julian continued, watching me like a scientist studying a volatile experiment. “They forced you to complete the mission.
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 55
No More LiesJulian barely had time to smirk before my fist crashed into his jaw. The impact sent a satisfying crack through the air, but he only staggered back a step, blood trickling from his lip.“That’s more like it,” he murmured, wiping the red away with the back of his hand. “Show me who you really are, Nathan.”A growl tore from my throat as I lunged again, my body moving on instinct. I swung hard, but he ducked, catching my wrist and twisting it sharply. Pain flared up my arm, but I gritted my teeth and drove my knee into his ribs.He let go with a grunt, but before I could press my advantage, his elbow slammed into my side, knocking the breath from my lungs.Memories flickered through my mind like a broken reel.Evelyn laughing, sunlight in her hair.Evelyn’s eyes, wide with horror.My hands—stained red.I roared, shoving the memories aside and focusing on the man in front of me. Julian was fast, calculated, and worst of all, he knew me. Every move I made, he countered like h
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 56
The Final TriggerJulian coughs, a wet, gurgling sound, as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. His body slumps against the cold brick wall, the dim alleyway barely illuminating the mess I’ve left him in. His breaths are ragged, shallow, but his grin—his damn grin—stays in place. Even bleeding out, he looks at me like he holds the final card in a game I thought I had already won.“You think… killing me… will change anything?” He wheezes, his fingers twitching at his side. “You think it’ll bring her back?”The knife in my grip trembles. His words coil around me like a vice, squeezing, pressing against a wound that has never quite healed.“You talk too much.” My voice is ice. Detached. Controlled. But my hands say otherwise. They want to finish the job, to silence him, to finally put an end to the years of bloodshed, deceit, and the pain he's caused.Julian chuckles, a twisted, bitter sound. “That’s where you’re wrong, Nathan. I haven’t talked enough.” His eyes flicker with some
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 57
A New MissionJulian lay on the cold concrete, his breath ragged, his bruised face twisted in a mixture of pain and satisfaction. My grip on the gun tightened, my finger hovering over the trigger. I could end it right here. One shot. One less problem.But his eyes, sharp despite the swelling, gleamed with something far more dangerous than fear—certainty."Killing me won’t bring her back," he rasped, blood coating his lips. "But if you go after her… The Oath will never stop hunting you."His words slid under my skin like a blade. My pulse pounded in my ears, the weight of my past, my failures, and my rage clashing against the one truth I couldn’t ignore.I had a daughter.She was out there. Alive.And every second wasted brought her closer to slipping beyond my reach.My breath came out slow and controlled as I lowered my gun. Not because I forgave Julian. Not because I didn’t want to pull the trigger. But because right now, vengeance meant nothing if it kept me from finding her."You
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
