In the political battlefield—where the line between right and wrong often blurs like thick fog over a swamp of corruption—a justice warrior must confront their darkest temptations. Michael Bennett, who had long clung to his principles, was now being pushed to the edge. That cold voice on the phone—a whisper bearing destruction—reflected the fragile limits of his morality. Would he step into darkness in the name of justice, or lose his soul in the process? The real battle wasn’t in the streets, but within himself, where every choice was a wager against his own humanity.
“Your game is over. Richard Vaughn’s daughter has spoken. And she named you.”
The voice on the other end of the line, cold and emotionless, pierced Michael like a needle of ice. His hand trembled, his phone nearly slipping
