Location; Tavara – Sinclair Estate, Central Briefing Hall
Storm clouds boiled overhead as the Sinclair estate's central briefing hall filled with silence and anticipation. The main conference table—an obsidian slab older than most nations—gleamed under the arched ceiling, surrounded by the most powerful people Damien had ever trusted… and those he no longer could.
Nora sat to Damien's right, her presence now as much a shield as a sword. On the left, Livia scrolled through the decrypted vault files on a holographic display. Beside her stood Damien's uncle, Grant Sinclair—a once-celebrated war hero turned elusive family strategist. His weathered face was taut with rage.
"You mean to tell me," Grant said slowly, voice low and dangerous, "that Archer used our family's business channels to fund international black ops… and Victor covered it all up?"
Livia nodded grimly. "Not just that. Victor redirected internal funds to shell corporations. He orchestrated assassinations of whistleblowers. Your entire Middle East division? Compromised since 2015."
Murmurs filled the room.
Damien, arms crossed and jaw clenched, scanned the faces of his cousins—Aria Sinclair, a sharp-eyed logistics chief; Marcus, head of cyber intel; and Lena, the family's legal anchor. Even they looked shaken.
He raised his voice. "Victor is no longer part of the Sinclair network. He's in custody, and if he resists giving us the rest of Archer's trail—he won't be breathing long."
Nora leaned in. "But it's not just Victor. There are others. The vault files show links between Archer's black ops and at least three high-ranking Tavaran government officials. Including one who funded the fire that killed my father."
A heavy silence dropped.
Grant's fists tightened. "That fire was blamed on foreign rebels for years. If someone within Tavara's own government arranged it…"
"They did," Livia confirmed, tapping on the floating display to pull up a surveillance clip dated sixteen years prior. "The voice ordering the hit—it's former Minister Ralken. He used diplomatic immunity to bury the evidence and escape conviction."
Damien stood slowly. "This ends now. Every accomplice gets named. Every traitor buried."
A low ping sounded.
Aria's console lit up. "Damien, there's a breach."
Everyone's attention snapped to the large screen as it displayed a burning image—an explosion ripping through a secure Sinclair warehouse in Singapore. Within seconds, live footage began streaming: masked attackers, chaos, flames.
Marcus barked, "They've hit our cyber and bio-research arms at the same time. Someone's accelerating their moves."
"They know we're unraveling the web," Nora said. "And they're panicking."
Damien turned to Grant. "Deploy all ghost units. Lock down remaining archives. If Archer has more planted insiders, I want them outed by dawn."
Grant nodded and left with Marcus, issuing rapid commands.
Nora moved beside Damien as the hall cleared. "This won't stop until Archer's entire house of cards collapses."
Damien's voice was iron. "Then we'll start pulling the floor out from beneath him."
He paused. "How are you holding up? With what we found… about your father?"
Nora's eyes glistened, but her posture was unshakable. "I spent half my life grieving a death orchestrated by someone who shook my father's hand. I'm done crying. Now, I fight."
Just then, Elijah entered, nodding toward Damien.
"We found the next thread. There's a man in Morocco—code name Orion. Former handler for Archer's European assets. He's gone dark… but he holds a ledger. One that names every co-conspirator, including the Tavaran elite."
Damien's eyes lit with dangerous clarity.
"Then that's where we go next."