Author: CuongB Mr

The corner of his mouth shifted. Not a smile. Something sharper. “What exactly do you think that will do?” “I don’t know,” she snapped. “I’m improvising.” He stood. That was worse. In the casket he had looked beautiful in the abstract, like a portrait of power. Standing up, he was overwhelming. Tall enough to command…

The woman spoke again, and I knew her voice at once. Vanessa. She was a friend of Adrian’s younger sister, or at least that was how she’d been introduced. She had eaten lasagna in my dining room twice. Once she brought a bottle of wine and told me she admired how devoted I was to…

The elevator doors closed behind them with a soft, expensive chime. Only then did the room exhale. Julian looked at Gabriel. “Sweep her dress. Seams, hem, shoes, hair. Vincent doesn’t send people without wiring them.” Gabriel gave a brief nod and called in the all-female medical team Julian kept on retainer for exactly the kind…

Matteo looked back down at me. Then he said, “Your debt is paid, Mr. Delaney. In full. Principal, interest, stupidity tax.” Pete’s mouth opened and closed. “By why?” “Because I dislike repeating myself. And because I dislike businesses in my territory borrowing from men who mistake desperation for invitation.” That landed strangely. “Men?” Matteo finally…

PART 1: THE DUST AND THE DECEPTION The boot connected with my ribs before I even had the chance to feign a reaction. I hit the North Carolina red clay hard, the impact jolting my spine, my long dark brown hair whipping across my face like a shroud. I stayed down. I didn’t cry out….

PART 1: THE VEIL OF DECEPTION They say the view from a penthouse on the Upper East Side is the closest a man can get to heaven while he’s still breathing. From my balcony, I could see the pulse of New York City—the yellow cabs crawling like beetles, the shimmering lights of Central Park, and…

Part 1: The Invitation to a Trap I stared at the reflection in the cracked mirror of my tiny apartment in Houston’s Third Ward. My scrub top was faded from too many washes, and my eyes were rimmed with the kind of exhaustion only a double shift in the ICU can produce. Then, my phone…

Part 1: The Encounter The wind off Lake Michigan doesn’t just blow; it carves. It was a Tuesday in late February, the kind of Chicago winter that makes you question your life choices. I was hunched over my modified 1998 Fat Boy, the engine’s vibration the only thing keeping my blood from turning to slush….

PART 1: THE INVISIBLE BOY AND THE GREY SEDAN I’ve spent sixteen years perfecting the art of being a ghost. In a place like Riverside, Ohio—a town built on rusted steel and broken promises—being seen is usually the first step toward getting hurt. At Riverside High, I was the kid with the duct-taped sneakers and…