2025-03-07 18:37:02
Previous Chapter
Related Chapters
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 68
A Shadow of His Former SelfThe dim glow of the chandelier flickered against the marble floor as I stepped into the room. Julian sat at the head of the long table, a glass of something dark and expensive in his hand. He looked up when I entered, his expression unreadable, but I caught the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes.“You came,” he said, swirling the liquid in his glass. “I was starting to think you’d rather let the world rot than have a real seat at the table.”I didn’t sit. Not yet. I had spent too many years in this very room, listening to men who thought power made them untouchable. The Oath wasn’t just an organization. It was a machine—one that chewed people up and spit them out as something else.Something less.I leaned against the back of the nearest chair, keeping my movements casual. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you were as full of shit as I remembered.”Julian chuckled, setting his glass down. “Nathan, if you were here to say no, you wouldn’t have come at all.”
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 69
The Lie BeginsStepping back into The Oath was like slipping into a past life—one I had barely escaped from, one I had sworn never to return to. Yet here I was, walking the same halls, hearing the same clipped conversations, feeling the weight of the same unspoken rules pressing against my ribs.The compound hadn’t changed. The walls still carried the sharp scent of leather, metal, and gun oil. Every corner was a monument to control, to power wrapped in discipline. I knew this place better than my own reflection, but this time, every step felt like walking on the edge of a knife.I kept my breathing even as Julian led me deeper inside. The way he moved, the way the guards barely glanced at him, told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t just in control. He was the control.His voice cut through the silence. “You’ve been gone a long time, Nathan.”I didn’t reply.“You know what that means,” he continued, glancing at me sideways. “They’re watching you. Every step. Every breath.”I m
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 70
The Hard TruthThe transport van rumbled down the dark road, its tires humming against the cracked pavement. The dim overhead light flickered, casting brief flashes over the men seated inside, their faces impassive, their weapons resting against their thighs like extensions of themselves. The air inside was thick with tension, a quiet, unspoken understanding that when the doors opened, blood would be spilled.I sat near the back, my Glock cool in my hands, my grip steady and controlled. My fingers traced the engraved serial number on the side—an old habit, one that kept my mind grounded. Across from me, Lawrence smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He had never trusted me, and now that I was back, he was waiting for me to slip, to prove him right."You look like you’ve seen a ghost," he muttered, tilting his head.I didn’t answer.Lawrence leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You gonna choke when the time comes?"I met his gaze, my voice level. "You’re
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 71
Caught Between Two WorldsI can’t breathe.Julian’s eyes pin me in place like a predator waiting for its prey to break. His voice, smooth and commanding, lingers in the air between us. “You know what to do, Nathan.” A simple command, but one laced with the weight of a thousand decisions I never wanted to make.I swallow hard, forcing my body to remain still, though my heart pounds against my ribs like a caged animal. If I refuse, Julian will know I’m lying. If I follow through, I lose myself forever.And yet, my hesitation is its own betrayal.I shift in my seat, pressing my palms flat against my thighs to stop them from clenching into fists. "And if I say no?" My voice is steady—too steady. It’s a lie in itself.Julian leans forward, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Then we both know what happens next." His words slither into the space between us, filling it with something thick and suffocating.I glance at the others in the room. Spectators. Pieces on Julian’s chessboard.
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 72
The Blood PriceThe air reeks of sweat, gun oil, and the sharp metallic tang of blood. The black site is nothing more than a gutted warehouse on the outskirts of the city, a place built for ghosts—men and women who no longer officially exist. A place where choices turn into consequences, and hesitation is the quickest way to die.And right now, I’m standing in the middle of it, staring at the Resistance fighters I once called allies.The moment I step through the rusted metal door, weapons rise. Fingers hover over triggers. Eyes narrow. My presence is not a welcome one.“Nathan,” a voice calls out, low and razor-sharp.I turn toward it, locking eyes with Elias. He stands just beyond the glow of a single overhead light, his broad shoulders casting long shadows against the cracked concrete floor. His expression is unreadable, but the tension in his stance says everything.He doesn’t trust me.I can’t blame him.My pulse is steady, but beneath the surface, I feel the cold grip of somethi
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 73
The DecisionSmoke curls through the air, thick and suffocating. The acrid scent of burning metal stings my nose, mixing with the chaos of shouts and gunfire. My hands are steady on my weapon, but my pulse is a different story—pounding, relentless.I didn’t hesitate. I made my choice.But making a choice is one thing. Surviving it? That’s another.The Resistance fighters are scattering, trying to retreat through the back exits. The Oath’s enforcers are closing in, sweeping the perimeter, hunting. If I don’t make this look convincing, Julian will know. He already suspects. I saw it in his eyes before the gunfire started—he was watching for weakness, waiting for the moment I gave myself away.I need to play this right.Riley moves in the corner of my vision, dark hair whipping as she darts toward the exit. Elias is covering her, taking down an enforcer with two clean shots before moving toward the opposite side. Nyla stays back, knife flashing as she deals with a soldier who got too clo
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 74
Riley’s PleaThe cold night air stung as I stepped onto the balcony, the city stretching beneath me in a blur of neon and shadows. A cigarette burned between my fingers, the ember pulsing like the warning signs I’d been ignoring for too long. The weight of my choices pressed against my ribs, an iron vice that tightened with each breath.Then came the knock. Sharp. Urgent.I exhaled, watching the smoke curl upward, before turning toward the door. When I opened it, Riley stood there, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something between frustration and fear.“We need to talk.” His voice was low, clipped.I gestured for him to come in, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t sit. Didn’t take off his coat. Just stood there, hands clenched at his sides, like a man about to walk into a storm.“You know, for someone who claims he doesn’t care about consequences, you sure seem tense,” I muttered, leaning against the desk.Riley didn’t take the bait. “You need to end this before they bury you.”
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 75
A Dangerous OrderJulian’s voice was steady, devoid of hesitation. “Bring me Riley.”Two words. Simple. Direct. And yet, they shattered something inside me.I kept my face still, unreadable, though my stomach twisted in protest. Riley. The woman I’d sworn to protect. The woman who had, against all odds, trusted me.A threat, Julian called her. A loose end.I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing against me like a steel vice. Julian never made idle requests. This was an order.Betray her, or betray myself.Silence stretched between us, thick with expectation. I forced myself to breathe evenly, to keep my hands from curling into fists. This was a test—one of many he’d put me through.“Is there a problem, Nathan?” Julian asked smoothly, tapping his fingers against the polished surface of his desk.Problem? Yeah. The problem was that I wasn’t the man he thought I was. Not anymore.I met his gaze. “What do you want me to do with her?”Julian smiled, slow and knowing. “Tha
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
