The Grim Sovereign

Chapter 13

The tires screeched as I brought the car to a hard stop just outside the abandoned textile building. Dust rose in a cloud around us, swallowing the rust-stained structure in a haze of silence.

I killed the engine and leaned forward, eyes scanning the rooftop edges, the shattered windows, the silence.

Too quiet.

I reached for the door, hand on the handle, then turned to Darren.

“You coming with me, or staying here to play corpse?” I asked flatly.

Darren’s eyes darted around the building, still wide with adrenaline, but he swallowed whatever fear he had left and popped the door open without a word. “Hell no. I’m not sitting here like bait.”

Good.

We moved fast across the parking lot, boots slapping cracked asphalt. I kept my body low, scanning for movement—anything off. The building loomed above us, its skeleton groaning in the wind like it still remembered life.

We entered through a rusted side door hanging crooked on its hinges. The air inside was thick with mold and old smoke, metal beams creaking above.

Step by step, we ascended.

The staircase groaned under our weight as we climbed, concrete dust falling with every footfall. I moved ahead, gun drawn, senses sharp. Darren followed close behind, breathing hard but keeping quiet. The fourth flight. Then the fifth.

Every creak of the stairs, every flicker of shadow was a potential threat. I moved slow, deliberate, eyes sweeping corners, fingers firm on the trigger.

Then we reached the rooftop.

The door was ajar.

I paused, motioned to Darren to stay low.

I pushed the door open slowly with my foot.

And there he was.

The sniper.

Dead.

His body slumped awkwardly beside the mounted rifle, head tilted at an unnatural angle, blood pooling from a clean shot through the temple. The CheyTac M200 still rested on its stand, aimed at the street below—precise, professional, untouched.

I stepped closer, crouching beside him. The blood was fresh.

Too fresh.

No signs of a struggle. No panic. Just… execution.

Darren stumbled in behind me, skidding to a stop.

He stared.

“What the—” He blinked, stunned. “Is… is he dead?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I was too busy scanning the rooftop, my gut tightening.

Someone got to him before we did.

The wind howled low across the rooftop. I stood, scanning every edge, every corner. Nothing.

No movement. No shadows. No second shooter.

Just silence.

Darren crouched by the body, wide-eyed, unsettled. “Who… who could’ve done this?”

I didn’t answer right away. My eyes drifted to the sniper rifle—still mounted, untouched. The scope. If the guy was tracking us, maybe… just maybe, he caught something before his death.

I bent low and peered into the scope, adjusting it slightly, fingers quick but steady.

Then—there.

A flash.

I saw a movement.

In the distance, across the street, through a shattered window of another building—someone. A figure. Lean and fast, grabbing a bag and what looked like a dismantled rifle. Then running.

“There,” I muttered.

I didn’t wait for Darren. I was already moving.

Boots thundered against the metal staircase as I charged down flight after flight. My breath stayed calm, measured, but my heart pounded like a war drum.

Whoever that man was—he had answers.

And I was going to get them.

Darren’s voice echoed behind me, panicked. “Kael! Wait! Kael! Where the hell are you going?!”

I didn’t respond. I hit the pavement running, shoving past a rusted gate and darting into the open street. I sprinted toward the building across, my eyes locked on the front entrance.

That’s when the door burst open.

A man in a black mask exploded out with a pistol in hand. Without hesitation, he aimed straight at me.

Bang!

I dove left behind a parked sedan, metal sparking as the bullet glanced off the hood. The shot had missed—barely.

“s**t!” I hissed, rolling and rising, gun drawn.

But the masked man didn’t stick around.

He ran.

Down the alley.

I chased.

My feet pounded against cracked asphalt. I was gaining on him. Just another five feet. Four. I could see the back of his jacket, flapping wildly as he sprinted like hell itself was on his heels.

Then—

SCREECH.

A black SUV skidded into the alley, cutting across the man’s path like it had been waiting for him all along.

The masked man reached for the passenger door.

But before he could open it—

Pop! Pop!

Gunfire erupted from the backseat window.

The masked man jolted as bullets punched through his chest. He dropped, hard, like a puppet with its strings cut. Blood pooled instantly beneath him.

I froze mid-stride and dove behind a trash bin as the shooter aimed in my direction.

Another shot. Missed.

Glass shattered above me.

Then the SUV tires squealed.

The car peeled away, disappearing around the corner before I could fire a single shot.

Silence fell again.

I rose cautiously, gun still in hand, and approached the dead man. His mask had slipped partially off during the fall. Blood leaked from his mouth. His hand was still twitching slightly… but his eyes were already glass.

Dead.

For real, this time.

A moment later, Darren arrived, breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. He bent over, hands on his knees.

“Is… is he dead too?” he asked between pants, eyes wide with horror.

I didn’t look up as I crouched beside the body. I flipped the collar of the man’s jacket and checked for identifiers. Nothing.

“Yeah,” I said coldly. “He’s gone.”

Darren straightened. “Kael… what the hell is going on?” His voice was trembling now. “Who the f**k was that guy? And who killed him?”

I stared at the corpse.

Someone had just silenced a man we were seconds away from capturing.

I stood over the dead man, his blood still fresh on the pavement, cooling beneath the open sky. The last echo of gunfire was long gone, drowned out by the whispers starting to stir in the nearby buildings.

But I didn’t say a word.

I turned to Darren. “Let’s go. We head to the place we were going before.”

He blinked, staring at me like I’d just suggested we take a walk in the park.

“Just like that?” he asked, incredulous. “We’re just going to leave? Two bodies here, Kael. Two dead men. And one of them just tried to kill you.”

I didn’t answer.

I was already walking away, boots heavy on the cracked road, thoughts louder than his voice.

Behind me, I heard Darren sigh sharply and fumble for his phone. “Yeah… police? Two men are down, alley off of Drexler Street. Send someone fast.”

I didn’t care to wait.

As I walked toward the car, my mind raced, unraveling a hundred questions with zero answers.

Who wanted me dead?

Was it the government?

Was it the old chains of the agency—those ghosts who still saw me as an asset or a threat?

Or was it the terrorists?

People I’d buried, missions I’d ended. Shadows I thought I’d outrun.

The pieces didn’t align yet. There was no clear motive, no calling card. Just bullets.

I climbed back into the car, and sure enough—eyes were watching. From windows. From street corners. A dozen civilians whispering, staring. Phones recording.

Let them.

The door slammed shut behind me.

A few seconds later, Darren yanked the passenger side door open and dropped in beside me, still breathing heavy. He turned to face me fully, his tone sharp and unrelenting.

“You need to tell me,” he said. “Back there—you said something. You said they were targeting us. Who the hell were you talking about, Kael?”

I didn’t look at him right away. I stared through the windshield, jaw tight.

“It could be them,” I finally said. “The ones behind the government. The same people who want me dead.”

Darren frowned. “The ones behind—what does that even mean? You’re talking about the ones that sent you to prison?”

I nodded once, voice low. “They covered their tracks. Buried my past. Labeled me a traitor. They wanted me erased… and maybe they still do.”

Darren leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “You mean the Prime Minister?”

“Maybe.” I exhaled through my nose. “Or someone even higher. Someone pulling strings behind closed doors.”

“Why?” he asked, almost desperate now. “Why the hell would they want you dead now, after all this time?”

I looked at him, quiet for a moment.

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “And that’s what scares me.”

Darren muttered a curse and turned the key in the ignition.

The engine roared to life, and the car rolled forward, pulling us away from the blood, the body, and the questions that wouldn’t stop hunting me.

The tires rolled to a slow stop in front of a gleaming, obsidian-black building that stood like a fortress among the lesser structures around it. I stepped out of the car, my boots hitting the pristine pavement with a soft thud. For a second, I just stared.

This wasn’t what I expected.

Darren had given me a rundown of the Delacroix Security Agency on the way over—“tight operation,” “just a small team,” “nothing fancy”—but what stood in front of me was anything but small. The architecture was sleek, with reinforced glass panels that shimmered like water in the sun. Wide marble steps led to a broad front entrance flanked by steel columns. Outside the entrance, a cherry-red Pagani Huayra sat parked like it owned the street. That car alone was worth more than what I made in a decade back when I was active.

“What the hell is this?” I muttered, narrowing my eyes.

Darren chuckled beside me as he came around from the other side of the car. “Surprised? I told you about it.”

“You said it was a small firm.”

He grinned. “I lied. Welcome to Delacroix.”

He motioned for me to follow, and we began walking up the steps. As we did, I glanced around at the polished security cameras tracking our movements and the two suited guards at the door with earpieces tucked into their collars.

I didn’t know much about Mira Delacroix’s family, but I’d heard the history. Now I was seeing it with my own eyes.

“This place doesn’t look registered under any government security body,” I said, scanning the perimeter.

“It’s not,” Darren replied as we approached the doors. “Not yet. The National Office of Private Defense and Security Enterprises—NOPDSE—still hasn’t approved our license.”

I gave him a sharp look. “You’re running an unregistered paramilitary organization?”

He shrugged. “Technically, it’s a consulting agency for now.”

“Right.”

“My father-in-law’s working on it,” Darren added as we entered the building. “Mr. Lucien Delacroix wants it fully legalized, and he’s got friends high up. Once the elections are over, the paperwork will be easier.”

I recognized the name. Lucien Delacroix. CEO of multiple multinational firms. The kind of man who could make presidents shake.

We walked into a vast lobby with glass floors and chrome paneling. People in suits moved with military precision, some tapping away on tablets, others holding folders stamped with high-priority tags. Every corner screamed money.

“And next week’s election,” Darren continued, lowering his voice, “might decide how fast that happens.”

He glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one was listening.

“Rumors are going around. They say Dr. Felix Montgomery might win.”

I paused mid-step.

“Montgomery?” I asked, voice low and tense. “Isn’t he the former Prime Minister?”

Darren gave a sharp nod. “The same one.”

A shadow passed over my face.

“He’s the one who aborted your last mission,” Darren said. “The one who ordered the execution of your entire unit.”

My jaw clenched, memories rushing up like a tide I’d tried to suppress.

“No one wants that man as Mayor, Kael,” Darren added, his voice suddenly serious. “People know what he’s done. And if he gets into office here? It could only mean one thing—he’s consolidating power again.”

I exhaled through my nose and turned away from him. “I don’t want to talk about that one. Not now.”

Darren nodded in silence.

We kept walking, the lobby swallowing our footsteps as I pushed the thoughts of Montgomery back down where they belonged.

As we stepped through the towering glass doors, the air changed. Cold and metallic, with an undertone of polished oak and aged paper. A strange mix.

Sitting at the front desk in the spacious lobby was a woman—late fifties, maybe early sixties. Her gray hair was tied into a harsh bun, and her lips were pressed together so tightly it looked like they hadn’t smiled in a decade. A single silver chain dangled from her glasses, and she stared directly at us with the unimpressed gaze of a war veteran.

Darren greeted her politely. “Good afternoon, Madam Corvina.”

Just as Darren opened his mouth to introduce me, the woman raised one hand without even looking up.

“No need for long speeches, Darren,” she said curtly, flipping through a large book pulled from beneath the desk. “Mira already called. We know who he is. We know what he needs.”

Her tone was sharp and rude, with a theatrical eye-roll that almost made me laugh.

With a sigh, she dropped the book onto the desk and opened it wide. “Sign here, Mr. In-Law,” she said with venomous sarcasm. “In this modern day, imagine still using your brother’s wife’s influence to get a job. As a security officer, no less. Common.”

Darren stiffened beside me, but before he could utter a word, I gripped his arm and gave him a shake of my head. Then I pulled the pen from the desk and filled out the form swiftly, refusing to let her provoke me.

Just as I was handing the book back, she peered at me over the rim of her glasses and said flatly, “Cleaner’s office. That’s where you’ll be working from now on.”

Darren exploded. “How dare you—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted gently, placing a hand on his chest. “Let it go.”

“What? No. Kael, you’re not doing this.”

I ignored him and turned to the woman. “Where’s the dormitory?”

She barely looked up. “Ask the man in charge of sanitation. He’ll know.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied bitterly, returning to her papers.

---

Darren pulled me aside, clearly fuming. “You’re not seriously taking that job, are you?”

“I am,” I said, calm but firm. “It’s enough. It’s a roof over my head and a fresh start. That’s more than I’ve had in years.”

He looked down, eyes clouded. “You deserve better.”

“I owe you, Darren. I’ll never forget what you did—what you paid for me. But right now, I’m tired. I just want to rest.”

He nodded slowly, breathing out in defeat. “Then rest properly. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

He turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the marble halls, but I called out. “Darren—”

He stopped and turned.

I walked up to him and pulled him into a hug—tighter than I intended, but I needed him to feel the gratitude I couldn’t say.

“I missed you,” I whispered. “Thank you. For the debt. For everything.”

He patted my back firmly. “Start over, Kael. Live. And love. Comfortably this time.”

He pulled away, gave me one last nod, and finally left through the doors.

---

I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked deeper into the building. A young man directed me to a side corridor, then down two more halls before I found the “cleaner’s dorm.”

The door creaked open, and I stepped inside.

It was... bad.

Peeling walls. A single flickering bulb hanging overhead. Dust on the floor. The kind of place forgotten by people.

The light blinked twice… then shut off completely.

I tossed my bag onto the creaky metal bed and collapsed backward onto the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling.

I thought about Darren and Mira’s daughter and the poison.

How does it reached here?.

And the sniper.

And those who killed him.

What was their ambition?

There were too many questions, and not a single answer.