Chapter Sixty-Three
Blade’s pov
The forty-hour countdown had been a blur of sleeplessness, cheap coffee, and the constant, gnawing fear that the rug was about to be pulled out from under me. I rode back into the compound as the sun began to bleed across the horizon, my movements stiff and my jaw aching from clenching it against the tension. In my pocket, Marcus’s burner phone felt like a live grenade, and tucked into my vest was a USB drive containing weeks of meticulous, fabricated intel that I had spent the night forcing Marcus to construct.
I had broken the man down until he was nothing but a shell, pale, trembling, and entirely compliant. He had delivered exactly what I needed: detailed shipping manifests, specific warehouse coordinates, and a fake upcoming weapons drop for a rival
