THE LAST JUDGEMENT

THE LAST JUDGEMENT 10

CHAPTER 10

The city moved as it always had—bustling streets, flashing neon signs, and the ever-present hum of people too lost in their routines to notice the war brewing beneath their feet. The Concord had always counted on that. Chaos hidden in plain sight.

Emily walked through the heart of it, her hood pulled low over her face. It had been a week since Daniel’s "death." The world accepted it. She had watched the coverage, seen the carefully placed narratives, the reports condemning him as a fugitive who had finally met his end. It made her sick.

But the waiting game was almost over.

"You’re late," Reed muttered as she slipped into the dim booth of a quiet café. His eyes were sharp, scanning their surroundings even as he nursed a cup of coffee gone cold.

"Had to make sure I wasn’t followed," Emily said, pulling out a small, unmarked envelope. She slid it across the table.

Reed opened it, his face unreadable as he examined the contents. A flash drive. A coded list. A single photograph—grainy, but clear enough to show the faces of men in suits shaking hands in the shadows.

"This is it?" he asked, voice low.

Emily nodded. "The Concord’s core. We take them out, we cut the head off the snake. But we only get one shot. If we move too soon, they’ll vanish. We move too late…"

Reed’s expression darkened. "Then it won’t matter who’s alive or dead. They’ll erase us."

A waiter walked past their table, and both instinctively tensed. But the man kept moving, oblivious.

"We’re running out of time," Emily said. "They’re already watching me. They’re waiting for me to slip up."

"That means they’re still unsure," Reed countered. "That’s good. It gives us an opening."

Emily exhaled, her fingers drumming against the wooden table. "Then we make our move soon. But we can’t do it alone. We need more firepower. More allies."

Reed gave her a knowing look. "You’re waiting for him."

She didn’t deny it.

"He’s coming back," she said simply.

Reed let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "I hope you’re right. Because if Daniel Calloway isn’t coming back, we’re walking into a war we can’t win."

Across the café, a man stood up, sliding his phone into his pocket before casually walking out. He didn’t look back, but if he had, he would have seen Reed’s reflection in the window, his face grim.

Deep in the underground tunnels beneath the city, Carter moved in silence. The abandoned subway station had long been forgotten, a relic of a time when people believed in building things that lasted. Now, it was nothing more than crumbling concrete and flickering bulbs. The perfect place for a ghost to rise again.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed behind him.

"You made good time," Carter said without turning around.

A shadow stepped into the dim light.

Daniel.

He was different now. The uncertainty was gone, burned away in the flames of his supposed death. His face was sharper, his movements more controlled. He had spent his time well.

"Is it ready?" Daniel asked, his voice low, dangerous.

Carter nodded and stepped aside, revealing the table behind him. Weapons. Blueprints. Identities. The tools of war.

"They think you’re dead," Carter said. "That’s your greatest weapon. You don’t just come back, Daniel. You make them wish you never left."

Daniel picked up a gun, testing the weight in his hand. Then he looked at Carter, his expression unreadable.

"We start tonight."

Emily didn’t sleep that night.

She paced her small apartment, her mind running through every possible scenario. If Daniel was alive—and she had to believe he was—then the next few days would decide everything. If The Concord so much as suspected their plan, they’d wipe them all out before they got the chance to strike.

A knock at the door made her freeze.

Her hand went to the knife strapped to her thigh as she moved carefully, silently, toward the door. "Who is it?"

A pause. Then a low voice. "Reed. Open up."

She unbolted the door and let him in. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were burning with something close to excitement. He tossed a folder onto her table.

"You were right. The Concord is still watching you. But they’re not just watching anymore. They’re moving."

Emily flipped open the folder, scanning the surveillance photos. Men in black suits loitering outside her building. A sleek black car parked a block away for hours at a time. They were closing in.

"They’re getting ready to finish what they started," Reed said. "Whatever we’re going to do, we have to do it now."

Emily clenched her fists. "Then we make our move first. We take them off balance before they even see us coming."

Reed nodded. "Do you have a plan?"

She exhaled. "We make them believe they’ve already won. And then, when they least expect it—"

She picked up a lighter from the table and flicked it on, watching the flame dance.

"—we burn them to the ground."

Back at The Concord’s headquarters, alarms blared.

A single message had appeared on their private network, bypassing every security measure in place. A single line of text.

You buried the wrong man.

In her pristine office, the woman in white stared at the screen, her face devoid of emotion. But inside, she felt something she hadn’t in years.

Fear.

Across the room, her second-in-command, the man in the black suit, tapped the screen with a gloved finger. "That’s not an empty threat."

She narrowed her eyes. "Find out where it came from. I want a location within the hour."

"And if it’s him?"

She leaned back, considering. "Then we end this before he has the chance to strike. Double our surveillance. Bring in the specialists. If Calloway is alive, he’s not leaving this city."

The man nodded, stepping out to carry out the order.

The woman in white sat alone for a moment, her fingers tracing the edge of her desk.

"You should have stayed dead, Calloway," she murmured. "Because now, I’m going to make sure you never come back."

In the dark corners of the city, a phone buzzed. A message flashed across the screen.

They know. Be careful.

A hand hovered over the reply button. Then, with a quiet sigh, a response was typed and sent.

Understood.

And just like that, the seeds of betrayal were planted, waiting for the right moment to bloom.