bChapter /bb383 /b

    KESTER.

    bI /bswear to fuck, I was done listening to this prick while he choked my mate almost to death.

    I bwas /bready to damn every fucking consequence and storm toward him, rip his throat out and take Kasmine to safety, even if I ended up bwith /bba /bbullet bto /bbthe /bheart.

    But Saint spoke before I could make a move.

    Just one line.

    “You’re burning through your safehouses faster than your men can die, Nagel.”

    And that stopped the fucker.

    Nagel’s hand stilled just a little around Kasmine’s throat, his eyes snapping to Saint with interest.

    “What the fuck do you mean?” Nagel asked.

    b“/bTwenty–one locations. Three this week alone. Want to guess how I knew about the basement off Durham Street? Or that little bank vault in Abuja you’re using to move cash?” Saint dropped down his rifle and tilted his head slightly, just enough to suggest he wasn’t pressed, as if he were having a conversation in a boardroom.

    “You’ve got a rat,” Saint continued, “And I’m the only person alive who knows who it is. bI /bmean, the very rat who’s been feeding your ops to that Colombian handler you thought you paid off months ago.”

    That made Nagel twitch, like his instincts were turning on each other. It was quick, but I saw it.

    “Like hell you do,” Nagel scoffed.

    “Yeah. I do. And I know what they gave up. How much. To who. I can list namesb, /broutes, cash drops… even yourst burner ID. Want me to keep going?”

    Nagel didn’t speak. But his grip on Kasmine loosened, just slightly.

    “Every attack you’ve suffered in the past six months? Wasn’t luck or surveince. It was him. Or her. Maybe even more than one.” Saint shrugged casually.

    I looked between them, not sure what the fuck I was watching anymore. This wasn’t a negotiation. It was a live autopsy, and Saint was cutting into Nagel where it shook the most.

    Did mention how calm and unbothered Saint’s voice sounded? He spoke bas /bbif /bhe were reading a grocery list, and somehow that made it ten times more terrifying. Of course, not for someone like me.

    Dude’s a fucking psychopath. No one can tell me otherwiseb. /b

    “You’re bluffing,” Nagel spat.

    Saint smirked. “Am I? Then shoot. Let’s see how long your next runsts before your next warehouse gets hit, your safe house goes hot, bor /bbyour /bbbrother’s /bconvoy mysteriously explodes in Paraguay.” The asshole brought out a stick of cigarette and lit it casually before speaking again.

    “I didn’te here to negotiate for a girl. I came to trade information for your survival. You have a traitor. bI /bknow who it is. But if you kill bher/b,b” /bbSaint’s /bbeyes /bflicked to Kasmine, “I let him keep feeding your enemies.”

    bHe /bstepped closer again. One more inch and Nagel’s men would’ve raised their guns.

    But they didn’t.

    bEven /bthey bwere /bstarting to look unsure.

    b“/bbWorse/bb, /bbSaint /badded bcoldly/b, now only ba /bbfew /bfeet from Nagelb. /b“I could bgive /bbyou /ba wrong name. You torture the wrong man. Waste byour /btime. Make enemies inside your camp. Meanwhile, the real rat keeps leaking intelb, /buntil the bfloor /bdrops beneath you and bno /bone’s there bto /bpull byou /bbout/b.”

    bNagel’s /bnostrils redb. /bSweat beaded just under his hairline. He was cracking, and I bswear /bto hell, he knew it.

    b“/bYou don’t scare meb,/b” he hissed through clenched jaws. I know you, Saint Rollins. I’ve heard a lot about you. I fucking know all your btricks/b. But byou /bbwon’t /bbget /bme this time.”

    Saint cocked his head, almost disappointed. “If you’ve heard about me,” he took a long drag from his cigarette, slowly puffing out the smoke before bhe /bbadded/b, Then you should know I don’t bluff, Nagel Vale.”

    Nagel opened his mouth, probably to spit another threat, but Saint beat him to it.

    “Vi off Rue Marceau. Two hours outside Bordeaux. Hidden drive. No paper trail. bHeavy /bgreen gates. bIvy /bcreeping up the walls.”

    Nagel went stiff.

    Saint exhaled like he just dropped the final card in a game he knew he’d already won.

    “Three bedrooms. One sr backup. One panic room beneath the kitchen floor. You lined it with lead and concreteb. /bbVery /bold school, by the wayb./bb” /b