The digital map on the safehouse wall, Julian’s masterpiece, was no longer a static constellation of red and blue. It was a living, breathing entity, a testament to the chaos Julian had unleashed. The red dots—Lorik’s network—were winking out, one by one. Communication lines fell silent. Supply routes went dark. The hum of the server, once a low thrum of constant threat, now felt like a victory march.
Jerry, propped up on the couch, watched it all unfold with the hawk-like intensity of a master chess player in the endgame. He didn’t smile, but a grim satisfaction played at the corners of his mouth. The pain was still a constant companion, a dull throb in his ribs, but it was eclipsed by the precision of his plan. Lorik had walked right into the trap. He had taken the bait, and now the jaw
