2025-02-18 19:13:01The engine hums under my hands as I drive through the city, weaving between cars, pushing the SUV harder than I should. My knuckles grip the wheel tight, blood from the earlier fight drying on my skin.
I don’t know where I’m going—just away. The neon lights blur past, their colors reflecting off the windshield. My heart is still racing, adrenaline refusing to fade. My body aches, bruises forming under my clothes, but none of that matters right now. I reach into my pocket, fingers brushing against a crumpled note. I already know what it says, but I pull it out anyway. Elias Graves. The name feels heavy, like a weight pressing down on me. The second I read it, pain explodes in my head. A sharp, blinding ache cuts through my skull. Images flash—fast, chaotic. A man’s voice, rough and urgent. A promise, broken. Gunfire. I jerk the wheel, barely missing a parked car. My breath is ragged. The name means something. The flashes fade, leaving a dull throb in my head and a cold unease in my gut. I don’t know this man, but my instincts scream that he has answers. I just don’t know if I want them. I grip the wheel tighter and press down on the gas. The Oath won’t stop hunting me. And right now, Elias Graves is the only lead I have. I need to find him before they do. The thought lingers, heavy in my mind, as I navigate the streets. I turn onto a quiet road, scanning for a place to ditch the SUV. It’s hot now—probably tagged. I need to keep moving, stay ahead, stay hidden. Then—I see it. A flicker of movement in the rearview mirror. Shit. A black sedan. Two cars back. Tinted windows. Driving too smoothly, too carefully. They aren’t just passing through. I test them, turning down an unnecessary side street. They follow. Another turn. Still there. I curse under my breath. No time for subtlety. I yank the wheel hard, swerving across lanes and flooring it down a narrow alley. Tires screech behind me as they struggle to keep up. My heart pounds as I take a sharp turn, nearly hitting a dumpster. The SUV is too big for this kind of chase, but I push it to the limit. Then—a gunshot. The back window shatters. They aren’t waiting anymore. I duck, gripping the wheel, swerving onto the next open road. I have to lose them. Now. Up ahead—a red light. Cross traffic. No time to stop. I grip the wheel, brace myself, and plow through the intersection. Horns blare. Tires skid. I don’t look back. If I hesitate, I’m dead. The sedan tries to follow, but a delivery truck cuts them off, screeching to a stop inches from their bumper. They’re trapped. For now. I don’t waste the opportunity. Three more quick turns and I’m gone, slipping into an underground parking garage. I cut the engine. Silence. I sit still, forcing my breath to slow. My pulse is a war drum. They found me too fast. Again. I press my fingers to my temples, trying to fight the pounding headache. My mind feels like it’s unraveling. Like memories are just out of reach, slipping through my fingers like smoke. Elias Graves. Who the hell is he? And why do I feel like finding him will change everything?
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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 7
The cheap motel room smells like old cigarettes and damp carpet. The kind of place where people disappear, where the walls hold too many secrets. It’s perfect for hiding. And right now, that’s exactly what I need.Outside, a flickering neon sign casts red and blue flashes through the thin curtains, painting the walls like a broken strobe light. I watch the colors shift, almost hypnotized, but not enough to ignore the heavy weight in my chest.I sit on the edge of the bed, head in my hands, fingers pressing against my temples. The headache is sharp, relentless, pounding at the back of my skull. I shut my eyes, trying to focus. Trying to remember.A name keeps echoing in my mind.Elias Graves.It won’t go away. It’s like a splinter under my skin—always there, always itching. I’ve spent hours searching, calling in favors, hacking into databases that should have been impossible to access. Nothing.No records. No background. It’s like he never existed.And yet, I know he’s important.I lea
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 8
The USB drive is small, cold against my fingers. I turn it over, feeling its weight. Not just plastic and metal—something more. Something important. I found it in my jacket, hidden in a secret pocket I don’t even remember using. My mind races. How long has it been there? Did I hide it myself? Or did someone else?My pulse is steady, but my breathing is shallow. I don’t like unknowns. And right now, my whole life is an unknown.I grab the disposable laptop from the motel desk and power it up. It’s slow, the kind of cheap tech I use when I don’t want to be traced. The motel’s Wi-Fi is useless, but I’m not connecting to anything. I slide the USB into the port, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.The files are a mess. Corrupt data. Half-erased fragments. Someone tried to destroy this information, but they didn’t do a clean job.One document is still readable.I lean forward, the glow of the screen the only light in the room.You made the right choice, Nathan. But they will never let yo
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 9
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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 10
I don’t have time to bleed.The train rumbles beneath me, the cold metal pressing into my back as I stare up at the dark sky. My shoulder is a mess, my ribs feel like they’ve been crushed, and my head won’t stop pounding from the fight at the station. But pain doesn’t matter. The Oath is still after me. I need to keep moving.I climb down the side of the train, slipping through the door into an empty car. The overhead lights flicker, casting shadows on the torn seats and graffiti-covered walls. No passengers. Good. I need a moment to think.I drop onto a seat, pressing my fingers against the wound on my shoulder. Not deep, but still bleeding. I rip a strip from my ruined shirt and wrap it tight. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do for now.My mind shifts back to the USB drive. The corrupted files. The message.You made the right choice, Nathan. But they will never let you walk away.What choice? What did I do?I don’t remember. But someone does. And if The Oath wants me alive, it means I’m
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 11
I pushed open the rusted metal door. The smell of cigarette smoke and old wiring filled my nose.The underground hacking den looked the same—dim lights, walls lined with servers, the air thick with heat and tension. The glow of computer screens painted the room in blue and green light. Some people were lost in their screens, others watched me carefully.And then, I saw her.Riley sat at a desk, typing so fast it made my head spin. The moment she noticed me, she stopped. Then, she sighed and leaned back in her chair, throwing her boots up on the desk.“Well, well. Look who’s still alive.” She crossed her arms, smirking. “What do you want, Nathan?”Her voice was playful, but her sharp hazel eyes were already scanning me, calculating the risks.I stepped forward. “I need your help.”She let out a short laugh. “Last time I helped you, I almost got killed. Remember that?”I did. Too well. She barely made it out that night. She saved me. And I never forgot the way her hands shook after.“I
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 12
The glow from Riley’s monitors paints the room in cold blue light, flickering across her face as she types furiously, her fingers moving faster than my eyes can follow. I watch from the edge of the room, arms crossed, pulse still racing from the last hour. The warehouse feels smaller, the air thick with old electricity and unsaid words.She hasn’t spoken since the system rebooted itself, since the warning message crackled through the speakers like a whisper from the grave.You should’ve stayed out of this, Nathan.The voice still lingers in my head, an unwelcome echo. I don’t scare easily, but something about it feels too personal. Like someone reaching through the dark, just to remind me I was already in the grave—I just hadn’t realized it yet.Riley exhales sharply, frustration laced through the sound. "Whatever’s on this drive, they really don’t want us to see it," she mutters, tapping a few more keys. A progress bar crawls across the screen at a painfully slow rate.I force myself
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 13
I leaned over Riley’s shoulder, my pulse hammering as she worked on the corrupted files. The glow from her monitor painted our faces in blue and green, flickering like a heartbeat. I could see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers moved faster than normal. She was worried."Anything?" I asked, my voice tight.She exhaled sharply. "Some of it’s fried, but..." Her fingers flew over the keyboard, and suddenly, a fragment of text appeared.A name.Julian Cross.A cold, sharp feeling stabbed through my chest.No. That’s impossible.I took a step back, my throat dry. "Where—where did that name come from?"Riley shot me a look, the kind that saw right through me. "It was buried in the metadata of one of the files. You know him, don’t you?"I did.Julian wasn’t just a name. He was my best friend. My brother in all but blood. And if his name was here, tied to this mess, something was very, very wrong.I forced myself to breathe, but my thoughts spun like a storm. Julian had been off the
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 14
Riley is too quiet.Not her usual kind of silence—the one where she’s working, focused, fingers flying over the keyboard. This is different.This is the kind of silence that makes my skin crawl. That makes my pulse stutter before my brain even catches up.I step closer. "What is it?"She doesn’t answer. Just stares at the screen like it holds something impossible. Like the words on it changed everything."Riley," I snap. "Talk to me."She flinches. Slowly, she turns to face me, and the look in her eyes hits me like a gut punch.Fear.Not the kind where something feels off.The kind that’s personal.The kind that has my name written all over it.My stomach knots. "What the hell did you find?"She hesitates, then takes a deep breath and spins the laptop toward me.At first, I don’t understand what I’m looking at. A security log. A list of names.And then I see mine.Nathan Vale.My heartbeat slams against my ribs.Next to my name: A timestamp. A location. A red warning.PRESENT AT CLASS
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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
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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
