2025-02-18 19:15:03The 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 lean back, letting out a slow breath. Frustration sits thick in my chest. My ribs ache from the earlier fight, a sharp pain shooting through my side, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening in my head. This headache. This feeling that I’m missing something. I know it’s all connected. The name. The memory loss. The Oath hunting me down. I close my eyes again. My body feels heavy, my mind spinning. Then—it happens. A flash. Not a thought. Not a dream. A memory. It’s blurry, faded, like an old photo left in the sun too long. But I hear it. "You’ll have to choose, Nathan." The voice is familiar. I know this person. Then I hear my own voice. "I don’t break my Oath." The words feel solid. Like something I truly believed. But the memory shifts again, turning dark, fading like a radio signal cutting out. Then— "You already did." The words hit me like a punch. I snap upright, gasping for air. The pain in my head spikes, like a knife behind my eyes. The room sways for a second, and I grip the bed to keep steady. Sweat beads on my forehead. What did I do? What choice did I make? The Oath had been my purpose. My mission. My life. No. I shake my head hard, pushing the thought away. Now is not the time to break down. I run a hand through my hair, gripping it tight as if that will somehow clear my mind. I need to focus. Elias Graves. He holds the answers. I’m sure of it. But how do I find him when it feels like he’s been erased from the world? Every lead is a dead end. No records. No whispers. No one even admits to knowing him. Someone wanted him to disappear. The Oath controlled everything. They trained me. Shaped me. Used me like a weapon. I never asked questions. I just followed orders. And now? Now I don’t even know who I am. I close my eyes again, trying to pull the memory back, trying to fit the pieces together. But it’s all fragments, broken and out of order. The room feels smaller. Tighter. Like the walls are closing in. I need answers. My hand shakes as I reach for my phone. I dial the one number I know I can trust. Sarah. The phone rings. Once. Twice. Then— "Nathan, you’re in deep." Her voice is low, careful. She knows something. "Sarah," I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. "I need your help." A pause. She’s thinking. "I knew you would," she says finally. But her tone is different. Almost… hesitant. "I need information on Elias Graves," I press. "Who is he?" She takes a slow breath. "Nathan, that’s not a name you can just look up. He’s been erased. On purpose. And trust me, you don’t want to know why." The air suddenly feels heavy. "I don’t care," I snap. "I need to know what’s happening to me." There’s silence on the other end. Then—a sigh. "You already know the truth," she says softly. "You just need to accept it." My heart pounds. "Face what?" Her voice drops to a whisper. "You broke the Oath, Nathan. And you knew exactly what it would cost you." I freeze. The words hit like a bullet. The Oath was everything. I can feel it now—the moment I turned against them. But I don’t remember why. "The Oath was never your freedom," Sarah says. "It was your prison." I hang up before she can say anything else. My hands tremble. She’s right. I knew what I was doing. And now, I have to face it. I look at my phone, the screen cracked. I need to find Elias Graves. Because if I don’t, the Oath will find me first
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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 10
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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 11
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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 14
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I had seen death before. Felt its breath on my neck. But nothing compared to the cold terror that ran down my spine as Riley’s screen flickered, glitched, and then displayed a single message in bold, chilling letters:“You should have stayed hidden, Nathan.”My chest tightened.Riley froze, her fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard. The hum of her computer, usually steady, now felt like a warning. The color drained from her face."Shit," she whispered. "They found us."A second later, the power cut out. Darkness swallowed the room, except for the faint red glow of the emergency battery. I reached for my gun. Every muscle in my body locked up, wired tight.Then—Glass shattered.A high-pitched whine filled my ears as a bullet tore through Riley’s monitor, sending sparks and shards flying. We hit the ground, my arm wrapping around her instinctively as more shots thundered through the air. The sharp scent of
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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 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
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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
