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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 86
The Killing BlowJulian coughs, crimson staining his lips, but he still has the audacity to smirk. Even now, bleeding out beneath me, he acts like he’s already won.“You think killing me will change anything?” His voice is hoarse but laced with amusement, like this is just another game.My grip tightens around the handle of the knife pressed against his throat. My heart is pounding, not from exertion, but from the weight of the moment. I’ve dreamed of this—justice, revenge, the end of everything he’s done. And yet, standing here, his life hanging in my hands, I hesitate.Julian’s golden eyes gleam, even as his breath turns ragged. “That’s right. You hesitate. You always do.” He exhales a shaky laugh. “That’s why you’ll never win.”I want to slit his throat right then and there, let the blade carve through his arrogance, his cruelty, his lies. But his words cut deeper than any wound he’s inflicted on me.Will I become the very thing I fought against?My fingers shake. I feel the weight
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 87
The End of The OathJulian is dead.I stare at his lifeless body, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my pulse hammering so hard it drowns out the chaos around me. Blood seeps into the cracks of the marble floor beneath him, a stark contrast against its once-pristine white. The man who built The Oath, who ruled it with an iron grip, is gone. And with him, the empire he fought so viciously to protect begins to crumble.I should feel relief. I should feel something other than this hollow emptiness clawing at my chest. But all I can think about is how much blood it took to get here. How many lives were destroyed—mine included.A sudden explosion rips through the east wing, shaking the ground beneath my feet. The walls tremble, glass shatters, and smoke billows into the air. Screams echo in the distance, mingling with the wail of sirens. The Oath is collapsing, its secrets spilling into the world like a dam finally broken.I wipe the sweat and grime from my forehead, forcing myself to move,
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 88
AftermathThe air is thick with the scent of smoke and something bitter—burning metal, perhaps, or the remnants of old lives reduced to ash. I stand at the edge of the crumbling city, the skyline jagged with half-collapsed buildings, the streets littered with debris. Fires still flicker in the distance, dying embers of a war that should feel like a victory. But as I watch the Resistance move through the ruins, organizing, rebuilding, claiming what’s left, I wonder if we’ve won anything at all.Riley is beside me, her arms wrapped around herself though the night isn’t cold. “They’re moving fast,” she says, nodding toward the makeshift headquarters rising from what used to be the government’s main control center. “Like they’ve been planning this for years.”“They have.” My voice is rough, the weight of exhaustion pressing on my ribs. I haven’t slept in days, and neither has she. “The only question is whether they’ll be any different from the ones they overthrew.”She exhales, a short, s
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 89
A New ThreatThe city never really sleeps, but tonight, it feels unnaturally quiet. I sit in my apartment, staring at the whiskey swirling in my glass, the ice clinking like an ominous warning. My body is tense, my mind racing.Julian was supposed to be the end of this nightmare. I had played the game, followed the breadcrumbs, and taken him down. But now—Now, I have this message.A single, untraceable text that landed in my inbox an hour ago."Julian was never in control. You were hunting a shadow. The real threat remains."The words coil around my throat like a noose, suffocating the momentary relief I had felt after dealing with Julian. My fingers tighten around my phone, knuckles white with frustration.Who the hell is pulling the strings?I push off the couch, pacing the room. My heart pounds, adrenaline kicking in. I don’t like being played. I spent months thinking Julian was the mastermind—the one orchestrating everything, the one who put a target on my back. And now? Now I fi
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 90
The Hardest ChoiceThe air smelled of smoke and sweat, thick with the remnants of destruction. My muscles ached, my body screaming for rest, but I couldn’t afford to stop. Not yet.Riley stood before me, eyes dark with exhaustion, her lip split from the last skirmish. Blood—some hers, some not—painted the collar of her torn jacket. We had been through hell, barely holding onto our ground, and now, we stood on the edge of something worse.Her voice was raw, almost pleading. “Do we fight again? Or do we walk away?”The question settled between us like a loaded gun, waiting for someone to pull the trigger.I turned, taking in the devastation around us. The city, once alive, was now a graveyard of crumbling buildings and scattered bodies—some groaning, some unnervingly still. Fires crackled in the distance, illuminating the streets in flickering shades of orange and shadow. People needed help. They needed us.My fingers curled into fists. My knuckles were bruised, my breathing uneven, but
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 91
The Most Wanted ManI used to think I knew what it felt like to be hunted. That was before Julian turned me into the country’s number one target.Now, my face is plastered across every screen, every news outlet branding me a traitor, a rogue operative who turned his back on the very nation I swore to protect. A kill-on-sight order. No trial. No chance for redemption. Just a death sentence signed by the government I once bled for.Riley and I barely made it out of the last ambush. It wasn’t just another mission gone wrong—it was personal. They knew our escape routes, our safehouses, our fallback plans. Every step we took was anticipated. Every door we tried to open was already locked. Julian wasn’t just trying to take me out; he was dismantling my entire existence, erasing any possibility of fighting back.But he made one mistake.He underestimated what happens when a man has nothing left to lose.---We crouched behind an overturned truck in the middle of an abandoned gas station, our
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 92
The Plan to Burn It DownThe Oath is a disease. A parasite feeding on power, corruption, and fear. For years, they’ve controlled governments, manipulated wars, and silenced anyone who stood in their way. I’ve seen their destruction firsthand. I’ve lost friends, allies, and the life I once had to their greed. But now, I have a plan to rip them apart from the inside out.Money is their lifeline—encrypted accounts, black-market arms deals, secret government contracts. Take that away, and they starve. Expose their funding, and they crumble. It’s simple in theory, but execution? That’s a different beast.I stand at the head of the table, scanning the room where my team sits. The air is thick with unspoken tension, the kind that settles deep into your bones. A war is brewing, and every one of us knows it.Elena leans against the desk, arms crossed, her dark eyes studying me. "Even if we find their financials, we need someone to crack the system. You’re good, Nathan, but this… this is anothe
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 93
The Prison BreakThe rain hit the tarmac in relentless sheets, washing away the last traces of moonlight as Riley and I crouched behind a rusted-out cargo container. Ironhold loomed ahead—a fortress of steel and concrete buried in the heart of nowhere, its walls lined with motion detectors and watchtowers.I adjusted my earpiece. “Silas better be worth this.”Riley shot me a look. “A legendary hacker who knows The Oath’s deepest secrets? Yeah, I’d say he’s worth it.”I exhaled, steadying my nerves. We’d broken into high-security facilities before, but Ironhold was different. A black-site prison where people went in and never came out. A place so off-the-books, even its shadows had secrets. And tonight, we were breaking someone out.Riley tapped her wrist device, disabling the outer perimeter sensors for exactly ninety seconds. “Go.”We moved fast, low to the ground. The side gate had a biometric lock, but I had something better—an override spike Julian’s team had stolen months ago. I
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
