The Last Contract

CHAPTER ONE - THE TARGET

The rain fell without mercy. It drummed against the black SUV as it crawled through the deserted streets of Raven City. Neon lights shimmered on the wet asphalt, blurring into streaks of blue and crimson beneath the tyres.

Inside the vehicle, silence reigned.

A man sat in the back seat, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. Leather gloves covered his hands. His wristwatch ticked with quiet precision, counting down the seconds.

His face betrayed nothing.

No fear.

No excitement.

No hesitation.

Only discipline.

Across from him, another man slid a thin black folder onto the seat.

"Your final briefing."

The suited man opened it without a word.

Inside was a photograph of an older man in his sixties.

Victor Laurent, Industrialist,Philanthropist,

Billionaire.

The public adored him.

The file beneath the photograph told a different story.

Weapons trafficking,Political assassinations,Human trafficking.

Money laundering.

A ghost hiding behind charity galas and newspaper headlines.

The suited man closed the folder.

"When?"

"Twenty-two minutes."

"Security?"

"Eighteen guards inside,Twelve outside. Four rooftop snipers. One emergency extraction team."

The driver glanced into the rear-view mirror.

"Will that be a problem?"

The man looked out at the rain.

"No."

There was no arrogance in his answer.

Only certainty.

The SUV came to a smooth stop two streets away from the Laurent Estate.

The rear door opened.

Cold rain greeted him.

He adjusted his cufflinks before stepping into the darkness.

From a distance, the estate looked more like a fortress than a home. High walls, surveillance cameras, armed patrols and motion sensors guarded every entrance.

To anyone else, it was impossible.

To him...

It was a routine assignment.

He disappeared into the night without making a sound.

Inside the mansion, music floated through the grand ballroom. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead as politicians, business executives and celebrities laughed over glasses of champagne.

Victor Laurent stood at the centre of it all, smiling for cameras.

No one noticed the waiter who quietly entered through the service corridor.

No one questioned him.

No one recognised him.

The tray in his hands carried crystal glasses.

Hidden beneath the folded white napkin rested a suppressed pistol.

Upstairs, completely unaware of the danger closing in, a young woman stood alone on a balcony overlooking the gardens.

She had never liked parties, She preferred the quiet, Her name was Sophia Laurent.

Victor's adopted daughter.

She stared into the rain, wondering why her father had insisted she attend another celebration she never wanted.

Behind her, the ballroom erupted in applause.

Far below, a shadow crossed the garden.

Neither of them knew that before midnight...

One life would end.

And two lives would be changed forever.

Sophia Laurent rested both hands on the cold marble railing, allowing the rain-soaked breeze to brush against her face. Inside, laughter echoed through the ballroom, accompanied by the soft melody of a string quartet.

She sighed.

Another charity gala.

Another evening of fake smiles, expensive gowns and conversations that never meant anything.

If there was one thing she had learned growing up as Victor Laurent's adopted daughter, it was that wealth attracted masks more than people.

"Miss Laurent."

She turned.

An elderly butler approached with an umbrella.

"Your father is asking for you."

She smiled apologetically.

"Tell him I'll be there in a few minutes."

The butler nodded and disappeared.

Sophia looked back at the city lights stretching beyond the estate walls.

Sometimes she wondered what life would have been like if Victor had never adopted her.

She remembered almost nothing about the orphanage except cold nights and empty promises.

Victor had rescued her.

Given her a name, A home, An education, And Everything she had ever needed.

She loved him deeply.

Even if she never completely understood him.

...

Elsewhere...

A waiter pushed a silver trolley through the eastern corridor.

His head remained slightly lowered.

Not out of fear.

Out of habit.

Every movement was measured.

Every breath controlled.

Two armed guards stood outside a restricted hallway.

"You're not supposed to be here," one of them said.

The waiter stopped.

"My apologies."

He turned as if to leave.

The first guard relaxed.

The second never had the chance.

Three seconds.

That was all it took.

A hidden blade slid silently into the first guard's neck before he could cry out.

The second reached for his weapon.

Too late.

The waiter caught his wrist, twisted it sharply until bone cracked, then drove the suppressed pistol beneath the man's chin.

Pfft.

The shot was barely louder than a whisper.

Both bodies were dragged into the storage room.

The floor remained spotless.

The waiter straightened his jacket.

No panic, No wasted movement.

He checked his watch.

Eleven minutes.

He continued walking.

Inside his private office, Victor Laurent dismissed his advisers one by one.

When the door finally closed, his smile disappeared.

He walked to the large window overlooking the gardens.

For reasons he couldn't explain, he suddenly felt...

Uneasy.

Years of living among dangerous men had taught him to trust instinct.

Tonight...

Something felt wrong.

He reached for the drawer beneath his desk.

Inside lay a pistol.

He hesitated.

Then quietly loaded it.

Outside the office, footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Slow.

Steady.

Unhurried.

Someone was coming.

Victor looked towards the door.

A single knock broke the silence.

Knock.

"Come in."

The handle began to turn.

A gentle knock interrupted the silence.

"Come in."

The office door opened slowly.

Sophia stepped inside, smoothing the emerald-green fabric of her evening gown.

"You wanted to see me?"

The tension on Victor Laurent's face disappeared the moment he saw her. A warm smile replaced it.

"There you are."

He walked around his mahogany desk and kissed her forehead.

"You've been hiding from my guests all evening."

She smiled sheepishly.

"You know parties aren't really my thing."

"I know."

Victor chuckled softly before studying her from head to toe.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

"For a moment," he said with a teasing smile, "I almost forgot you're not that little girl who used to hide behind my legs whenever visitors came."

Sophia laughed.

"I was six."

"And now you're twenty-five."

A brief silence settled between them.

Victor walked towards the fireplace, poured himself a glass of whisky and stared into the dancing flames.

"You know..." he began thoughtfully, "there comes a time in every father's life when he must accept that his little girl has become a woman."

Sophia immediately recognised that tone.

"Dad..."

He turned.

"I've invited a few distinguished young men tonight."

She blinked.

"You what?"

"They come from respectable families. Educated. Successful. Men of influence."

Her shoulders slumped.

"You arranged this without telling me?"

"I arranged an introduction."

"You arranged an interview."

Victor laughed.

"I simply want you to meet them."

"I don't want to."

"You haven't even seen them."

"I don't need to."

He sighed patiently.

"Sophia..."

She folded her arms.

"I don't want my future decided over champagne and business handshakes."

"No one is deciding your future."

"Then why are they here?"

Victor walked closer until only a few feet separated them.

"Because the world is changing."

His voice had become quieter.

"Power is shifting. Friends become enemies overnight. A woman in your position needs a husband who can protect her."

She frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before forcing another smile.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

She searched his face.

Something was wrong.

He looked... distracted.

Almost frightened.

"Dad..."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

He reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"I've lived long enough to know that a father's greatest peace comes from knowing his daughter won't be alone."

She softened.

"You'll always be with me."

A shadow crossed Victor's eyes.

"I hope so."

Before Sophia could ask what he meant, three sharp knocks echoed through the office door.

Victor's expression changed instantly.

Cold, Alert, Controlled.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened.

One of his head security officers stepped inside.

"Sir..."

The guard leaned close and whispered something into Victor's ear.

The colour drained from Victor's face.

For the first time in years...

He looked afraid.

The knock came again.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Marcus Hale, the head of Victor Laurent's security detail, stepped inside. At six-foot-four with broad shoulders and eyes that never stopped scanning a room, Marcus had protected Victor for nearly twenty years.

He never interrupted private meetings.

Not unless it was important.

He closed the door quietly behind him.

"Sir."

Victor immediately noticed the look on his face.

"What is it?"

Marcus glanced briefly at Sophia before stepping closer.

"May I have a word... alone?"

Victor's expression hardened.

Sophia noticed the change instantly.

"Dad?"

"It's all right," Victor said gently. "Give us a moment."

She looked from one man to the other, sensing the unease that suddenly filled the room.

"I'll be outside."

As the door clicked shut behind her, Marcus lowered his voice.

"We've lost contact with the east wing."

Victor's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean, 'lost contact'?"

"Guards Eleven and Twelve stopped responding three minutes ago."

"Radio failure?"

"We switched frequencies."

"No response."

"The cameras?"

Marcus hesitated.

"They went offline at exactly the same time."

Silence.

Victor slowly placed his glass of whisky on the desk.

"How many men have you sent?"

"Four."

"And?"

"They haven't reported back."

Victor walked to the window overlooking the rain-soaked gardens below. His face remained calm, but his mind was racing.

"Seal every entrance and exit."

"It's already done."

"Lock down the ballroom."

Marcus shook his head.

"If we do that, we'll cause panic among the guests."

Victor didn't answer immediately.

His gaze drifted to the family photograph on his desk—one taken years earlier, showing him with a smiling teenage Sophia on the day she graduated from boarding school.

For a brief moment, the ruthless businessman disappeared.

Only a father remained.

"Get Sophia out of here."

Marcus frowned.

"Sir?"

"Take her through the west tunnel. Don't tell her why. Just get her as far away from this house as possible."

"You think someone's coming for you."

Victor looked at him.

"No..."

His voice was calm.

"I know they are."

Marcus stared at him in confusion.

"You know who?"

Victor's eyes darkened.

"The only man who could silence eighteen armed guards without raising an alarm."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Then Victor spoke a name he hadn't uttered in nearly a decade.

"Ghost."

Marcus had heard stories about Ghost.

Everyone in the underworld had.

Most believed he was a myth.

Victor, however, knew better.

Because years ago...

He had watched Ghost walk away from a burning compound without a single scratch, leaving behind twenty-three bodies and absolute silence.

And tonight...

That ghost was walking toward him once again!!!!