In a world where trust is a luxury, secrets are deadly, and love is the most dangerous weapon of all...
Avery Caine thought she was just another orphan with a quiet life-until the brutal murder of her guardian shatters everything she knows. Now, hun...
The car ride to ArtiQues was wrapped in an unusual silence, each passing moment echoing the weight of the recent events. As we entered the gallery, Avery's eyes widened with a mix of amazement and curiosity, scanning the sophisticated surroundings.
Ignoring the gallery's patrons, I navigated through the pristine displays, heading straight to the concealed office tucked away in a distant corner. Holding the door open for Avery, I caught the confusion etched on her face. She stepped into the room, and as I followed, the door clicked shut behind us, sealing off the outside world.
Moving towards a bookshelf, I subtly revealed the facial recognition lock. The system beeped, confirming my identity, and the hidden door unlatched with a soft hiss. Avery stood frozen, the shock evident in her expression, as she witnessed the unveiling of this covert layer within ArtiQues.
"Welcome to the inner sanctum," I remarked.
Avery's gaze darted around the room, taking in the high-tech equipment, monitors displaying intricate patterns of data, and the team of operatives who greeted me with nods and acknowledgement.
Fred, George, and seven other skilled operatives were stationed in the room, each immersed in their tasks. Fred, with his signature glasses and a perpetually focused expression, approached us.
"Rick, good to see you. We've got updates on the Russian guy."
Fred turned his attention to Avery, offering a friendly smile.
"Hi there, Avery. Welcome to our sanctum. Since you are the only outsider who has entered this place in the last 10 years, I guess you are a part of the team now, and this is where the real work happens."
Avery, still grappling with the revelation, managed a nod.
"Real work indeed," she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting between the operatives and the intricacies of the room.
Fred, ever efficient, seamlessly transitioned to business.
"Rick, your guesses were right. The guy we caught is named Ivan Petrov. Linked to several criminal organizations, including Krovsvyaz. We're in the process of extracting intel."
"Krovsvyaz...," I repeated it under my breath, a tense knot forming in my stomach. A name that stirs the murky depths, where shadows linger and mysteries unfold.
I nodded in acknowledgement, my mind already shifting gears to assimilate the latest developments.
"Good. Did he spill anything about Sergei then?" I inquired, my voice carrying an undertone of authority.
George, sipping his coffee with a nonchalant demeanour, chimed in, "No, he still hasn't opened his mouth yet. We found his identity after running several trials using FRT. His facial identity matched, and we figured out he's one of the most wanted from 13 other countries since he joined Krovsvyaz."
"Well, let's see whether he's willing to open his mouth now or not," I retorted with a dominating, icy edge, my strides towards the interrogation room exuding controlled aggression.
Upon entering, I found Ivan handcuffed to the metal table. Sitting across from him, I leaned in, staring into his eyes with a deadly glare.
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