Krystal’s Point of View
Donovan was zip-tied to the steel chair now, the same one I’d been locked to hours ago. It suited him. Colt and I stood across from him, his blood stained lips already swelling, his tailored suit stained with dust and failure. The room felt too quiet, like the calm before an explosion. Not the kind you hear, but the kind that changes everything.
“Start talking,” Colt said, pacing around him like a predator patiently waiting for its prey. “I'm not in the mood for riddles or parables Just the location of the rest of your men and where the kill switch is.”
Donovan tilted his head. “You really think I have that kind of information. I wasn't the architect?”
Colt froze mid-step. I watched his jaw tighten. My breath caught. Architect?
“You were always chasing shadows
