The silence after the call did not last long.

An agent stood up abruptly, eyes fixed on the incoming feeds.

“Boss… the assassins have moved. They are no longer near the vans; only men from the logistic company left, only a few vans are abandoned, maybe manpower shortage. But there are still civilians and scattered individuals around those areas.”

Miles Sterling did not turn immediately. His gaze remained locked on the city map where seventeen blinking points marked the vans like ticking bombs.

“They do not need to stay near the vans anymore,” he said calmly. “CL 20 is nearly twenty times more powerful than HMX. These are not devices meant for control. They are meant for destruction.”

His voice lowered slightly.

“We are talking about thousands of casualties if even a few of those go off.”

The weight of that reality pressed down on everyone in the room.

Miles continued, analyzing every angle.

“They are watching the targets. Through the same CCTV feeds we are using. If we attempt to disarm even one van, or disrupt the feed… it could alert them.”

He paused, then added with precision,

“And if there is a failsafe… we lose everything.”

Monica stepped closer, thinking fast.

“What if we hack the CCTV network and blind them completely? Then we hit all the vans at once.”

Miles shook his head slightly.

“Too risky. One anomaly in their system, one second of suspicion… and they press the button.”

His eyes hardened.

“Terrorists do not hesitate. They have already invested too much into this. They came here expecting the city to burn.”

Outside, the city moved as usual.

People walked.

Traffic flowed.

No one knew.

“And today is clear weather,” Miles added quietly. “People are everywhere. We need to find out what communication system he is using.”

Charles stepped forward with updates.

“The coordinates he sent are outside city limits. It will take more than an hour by road.”

Miles nodded once.

“Two hours are not enough to neutralize seventeen explosive points and reach him through normal means.”

A brief silence followed.

Then he made the decision.

“I have to go.”

Charles straightened.

“Boss?”

“Bring Kyle Sterling here,” Miles ordered. “Prepare the chopper immediately.”

“Copy that.”

Charles moved without hesitation.

Monica looked at Miles, concern evident.

“I am really worried now.”

Miles took a slow breath.

“Do not be.”

His tone was steady.

“Kyle is our leverage. Rehman will not trigger anything until he is certain he gets what he wants. Even he wants me dead, he needs Kyle alive”

His eyes shifted again toward the screens.

One location caught his attention.

The van near the Atelier.

“That one… no guards?”

An agent responded instantly.

“Confirmed. It has been abandoned. No active watch.”

Miles’ mind moved rapidly.

“Monica… do we have the city sewer layout?”

She nodded.

“We do.”

Miles leaned slightly forward, connecting the dots.

“There should be a sewer access point under that van.”

Monica’s eyes widened.

“A sewer hole…?”

Miles turned.

“Charles.”

Charles already understood.

“I am connecting to the nearest field agents.”

Within seconds, communications went out.

A quiet operation had just begun beneath the chaos.

…

Miles stepped into the armory.

The room was cold, metallic, filled with precision tools designed for one purpose.

Control.

Efficiency.

Survival.

He walked toward the racks.

His movements were deliberate.

Measured.

He removed his jacket and reached for a tactical vest, reinforced yet flexible, designed to carry weight without restricting movement. He secured it firmly across his torso, adjusting the straps until it sat perfectly aligned.

Then came the weapons.

A compact handgun, matte black, customized grip, extended magazine. He checked the chamber, spun it once in his hand, then slid it into the holster at his side.

A second sidearm followed.

Backup.

Always.

He moved toward the blades.

One long tactical knife.

Balanced.

Sharp.

He ran his thumb lightly across its edge, then secured it along his vest.

Two smaller throwing knives followed, hidden placements along his arms.

Invisible.

Deadly.

He opened a case.

Inside lay a suppressed rifle, sleek and efficient. He did not pick it.

Not needed.

This was not a battlefield for distance.

This was personal, and it restricts his movements

He closed the case.

Picked up gloves.

Wore them slowly.

Then he looked at himself in the mirror for a brief second.

Not Miles Sterling.

Not the businessman.

Not the son.

Not the brother.

The Ghost.

His lips curved slightly.

“Battlefield…” he murmured.

“I am ready.”

…

He stepped out of the armory.

Monica was waiting.

“Boss.”

She stepped closer and attached a small device onto his vest.

He glanced down.

“What is this?”

“A military grade body cam,” she explained. “Prototype. Network supported. Thermal vision. Works in complete darkness. Our research division is developing it for government use.”

Miles adjusted it slightly.

“Looks like I need to visit that institute after this.”

A faint, brief moment of normalcy.

Then it passed.

Behind them, movement.

Kyle Sterling was brought in.

Disoriented.

Unstable.

But alive.

The final piece.

Outside, the helicopter rotors began to spin.

The sound grew louder, cutting through the air.

Miles walked toward it without hesitation.

The wind pushed against him as the blades gained speed.

He stepped in.

Sat down.

The door slid shut.

And as the helicopter lifted off…

The city below looked peaceful.

Unaware.

Unprepared.

And balanced on the edge of destruction.

…..

Vespera breathed luxury and silence within its towering skyline, far removed from the tension tightening its grip over Star Harbor.

Inside a private suite, where glass walls reflected the fading daylight and soft ambient music drifted through the air, Aveline Chevalier reclined effortlessly upon a velvet lounge, her posture relaxed as attendants moved with practiced precision around her.

Her face was covered with a smooth, cooling mask, shimmering faintly under the warm lighting, while delicate steam rose from scented bowls placed nearby. The environment spoke of indulgence, yet beneath it, calculation lingered.

Her assistant sat beside her, tablet in hand, waiting.

Aveline spoke without opening her eyes.

“Did you reach him?”

The assistant adjusted her glasses slightly.

“He is not picking up any calls. I reached out to his residence. They confirmed he is currently in Star Harbor.”

Aveline’s fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.

“What is he doing there?” she said with a faint hint of amusement. “Enjoying a beach party perhaps? He told me he was working on the airborne version. Looks like he is more interested in holidays than work.”

The assistant hesitated for a brief second before continuing.

“Boss… someone sent us photographs. Taken just before he boarded his flight. He was not alone. He boarded with someone.”

Aveline’s eyes slowly opened beneath the mask.

“Oh?”

The assistant turned the screen toward her.

“I could not identify the man.”

Aveline lifted the tablet herself.

Her gaze sharpened the moment she saw the image.

A pause.

Then a soft chuckle escaped her lips.

“Him?”

Her tone shifted instantly.

Recognition.

Interest.

Amusement.

“That brat…” she murmured. “The same one who secured the CL 20 before us.”

The assistant leaned forward, surprised.

“You mean… he is Rehman Nawwar?”

Aveline let out a quiet laugh.

“So the old man Jax is making deals with him now.”

Her eyes gleamed.

“It is business after all. Whoever pays more… wins.”

The assistant nodded.

“What should we do?”

Aveline leaned back again, completely composed.

“I want to know everything they are doing in Star Harbor.”

“Understood, boss.”

The room returned to silence.

But far away, chaos was already in motion.

…

The helicopter descended through the open sky, its blades slicing through the air with controlled intensity before touching down near an abandoned naval training base.

The structure stood silent.

Forgotten.

A perfect battlefield.

Miles Sterling stepped out as the rotors slowed, his boots meeting the cracked concrete with firm certainty.

Behind him, Kyle Sterling stumbled forward, mumbling incoherently, his mind lost somewhere far from reality.

Miles gripped him firmly.

“What a trouble you are,” he muttered.

He gave a brief signal to the pilot.

The helicopter lifted again, rising into the sky and disappearing, leaving behind only the vast emptiness of the abandoned base.

Miles stood still for a moment, scanning the surroundings.

Cold.

Open.

Dangerous.

“Can you see it?” he asked calmly.

Charles responded through comms.

“Very clearly, boss.”

Miles adjusted his stance.

“Keep me updated on the status. I believe there is no timer on those explosives, but that does not reduce the risk. We have one hour.”

Monica added quickly,

“The field agents are already in position. We will keep feeding you updates.”

Before Miles could respond, his phone vibrated.

He looked at the screen.

Unknown number.

He picked up.

A familiar voice echoed through.

“So… you are early.”

Rehman Nawwar sounded amused.

“I did not expect you to arrive by air. Looks like money really changed you. I must say… I am enjoying this. I cannot believe I made the Ghost follow my command.”

Miles’ expression turned cold.

“Enough of your nonsense,” he replied sharply. “You spent this much money and targeted an entire city just to call one man here. There is nothing impressive about that. I am here. I brought Kyle. Now disarm the explosives and take your revenge.”

A low laugh echoed.

“What is the hurry?”

Rehman’s tone grew darker.

“I called some of the world’s most dangerous assassins for your head. You know what is funny? Some of them did not even ask for money. They just want to kill you.”

A pause.

“You made quite a name for yourself.”

Miles did not react.

“Come inside,” Rehman continued. “The battleground is ready. If by some miracle you survive… I might consider your request.”

Miles’ grip tightened slightly around the phone.

“You are pointing in the wrong direction,” he said, his voice calm but heavy. “And when the time comes, you will not even have a moment to regret it.”

A faint smirk formed.

“Oh right…”

He added coldly,

“You do not have enough fingers left for that.”

A brief silence followed.

Then Rehman laughed.

“Let us see if you have become rusty.”

The call ended.

The wind moved through the empty base.

Kyle muttered something unintelligible behind him.

Miles slowly lifted his head.

His eyes no longer carried hesitation.

Only resolve.

The battlefield awaited.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep