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SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 97
The Underground FortressThe air was thick with the scent of oil and cold steel. My boots barely made a sound as I moved through the dimly lit corridors, pressing against the concrete walls, my gun raised. The Oath’s headquarters was a fortress buried beneath the city—a labyrinth of tunnels, security checkpoints, and death traps. And Riley was here.I took down the first guard with a swift chokehold, lowering his unconscious body to the floor without a sound. The second never saw me coming—I slammed his head into the wall, feeling the crunch of bone beneath my palm. My pulse hammered, my focus razor-sharp. I didn’t have the luxury of hesitation.As I moved deeper, the fluorescent lights flickered, casting long shadows along the walls. I counted the cameras, the motion sensors, the pressure plates. The Oath didn’t just want to keep people out—they wanted to keep their prisoners in.Riley.The thought of her—alone, trapped, waiting—ignited something vicious in my chest. My fingers tight
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 98
The ChoiceThe air is thick with smoke, alarms blaring like sirens in my skull. The walls tremble, metal beams groaning under the pressure of the imminent collapse. My heart slams against my ribs, hammering in time with the countdown flashing on the screen above.Sixty seconds.I whip around, my vision tunneling.Julian stands at the edge of the catwalk, eyes sharp, unreadable, his silhouette flickering under the erratic red emergency lights. His fingers hover over his wrist device—one final command, and he’s gone.And then there’s Riley.Pinned beneath a collapsed support beam, her face streaked with blood and soot. Her leg—twisted at an unnatural angle—tells me everything I need to know. If I don’t move now, she won’t make it out of here alive.Fifty seconds.The weight of the decision crushes me.Julian is the key to everything. The Oath’s mastermind. If I let him go, this war won’t end.But Riley—She’s my partner. My friend.And she’s looking at me with wide, pain-glazed eyes, a
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 99
The Hunt for JulianThe air reeked of decay. An abandoned city, hollowed out by time, loomed before me—its skeletal buildings stretching into the night like forgotten memories. Julian was here. I could feel it in my bones. The Oath was crippled, but like any wounded beast, it wasn’t dead yet. And Julian? He was the kind of man who always had a contingency plan.I tightened my grip on my gun, my heartbeat steady but charged, a silent drum beneath my ribs. The streets were eerily quiet, save for the occasional whistle of wind slipping through cracked windows and rusted street signs. My boots crunched against shattered glass and loose gravel as I advanced, each step calculated, every nerve in my body on edge.Julian wasn’t just a loose end. He was the architect of chaos, the man who had turned betrayal into an art form. I had spent years chasing ghosts, unraveling his web of deceit, and every time I thought I had him cornered, he slipped away like smoke through my fingers. Not this time.
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 100
The Last BulletThe warehouse smelled of rust and rain, the air thick with the ghosts of every battle that led me here. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, my grip tightening on the gun. Across from me, Julian stood with his usual smirk—calm, calculated, like he wasn’t seconds away from death.“You don’t have to do this, Nathan,” he said, his voice smooth as ever. “We can still fix this. You and me, like before.”Like before.Before the blood. Before the betrayals. Before the war he started and the one I swore to end.I leveled the gun at his chest, but my hands were steady this time. No hesitation. No doubt.Julian exhaled, tilting his head. “Look at you. You became what you hated. Look at yourself.”I had.And he was right.I wasn’t the same man who first stepped into this war. The Nathan from before would’ve listened. Would’ve hesitated. Would’ve believed that, maybe, somewhere in Julian, there was still a shred of the brotherhood we once had.That Nathan was gone.I pulled the trigge
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 101
The Final PlanThe warehouse reeked of oil and sweat, a fitting backdrop for the gravity of our mission. Dim lights flickered overhead as Riley spread out the schematics of The Oath’s headquarters on a metal table. The air was thick with tension, each of us acutely aware that tonight would decide everything.I leaned forward, my fingers drumming against the edge of the table, scanning every detail of our plan. "We go in through the east service tunnel. Minimal security there, but once we breach the inner perimeter, it’s a straight shot to the command center. That’s where we take them down." My voice was steady, but my gut twisted."Assuming they haven’t reinforced since our last intel," Carter muttered, arms crossed. He was our weapons expert, always thinking two steps ahead. His sharp gaze met mine, daring me to reassure him.I exhaled through my nose. "Then we adapt. We've come too far to hesitate now."Across from me, Riley's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "And if someth
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 102
Inside the Lion’s DenThe buzz of neon lights flickered against the cold steel walls as we moved in, shadows slinking through the corridors like ghosts. My heartbeat was a steady drum in my ears, loud enough to drown out the whispers of doubt clawing at the edges of my mind.“Riley, status?” I murmured into my earpiece, adjusting the sleek mask grafted onto my skin—an illusion of another man’s face.“Security loop engaged. You have exactly seven minutes before the backup cycle kicks in,” Riley’s voice crackled through, sharp with urgency. “Don’t make me regret letting you talk me into this, Nathan.”“Wouldn’t dream of it.”The others fanned out behind me. Tessa, her eyes razor-sharp, moved like a shadow, her grip firm on the compact firearm strapped to her thigh. Jensen, ever the silent force, stayed close, a walking storm waiting to be unleashed. We were inside the heart of the Oath—the organization that had woven itself into the fabric of corruption, controlling lives, ending them w
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 103
Ghosts of the PastPain flared through my skull as consciousness clawed its way back. My ears rang, the aftermath of the explosion leaving my senses scrambled. Smoke choked the air, and somewhere in the distance, alarms shrieked their fury.I groaned, pushing myself up from the cold floor, my vision swimming. My fingers found my sidearm instinctively, my body moving on training alone.“Tessa? Jensen?” My voice was hoarse, rough like gravel.A cough—then Tessa’s sharp reply. “Still breathing. Can’t say the same for them.”I followed her voice, pushing through the haze. Jensen was already on his feet, wiping blood from a cut above his brow. A few feet away, bodies lay crumpled in the wreckage—Oath soldiers who hadn’t been fast enough.Riley’s voice crackled through my earpiece, urgent. “Nathan, what the hell happened?”“Change of plans,” I muttered, scanning the damage. “We ran into Voss.”Silence. Then—“Did he see you?”I met Tessa’s gaze.“He knew who I was before I even said a word.”
SHADOWS OF THE OAT CHAPTER 104
Cracking the CodeThe tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. The room was cold, the kind of sterile, calculated chill that seeped into your bones. The kind designed to make you feel small.I didn’t.My grip on the rifle was firm, my stance steady. But inside, my mind was a storm. We had made it this far—past security grids, biometric scanners, and a near-lethal encounter with Voss’s men. Now, we were at the heart of The Oath’s operations. The core of their secrets.The vault stood before us—an unassuming steel wall embedded with security mechanisms so advanced, even Riley had muttered a curse under her breath when she first saw it.“This is it,” she said now, kneeling before the panel, fingers already flying across her portable interface. “Last layer of security. I just need a few minutes.”Minutes we didn’t have.Tessa and Jensen flanked the entry points, weapons raised. I could hear the distant hum of approaching footsteps. The Oath was on to us. We had pushed too far, and
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
