Page 125 of Nocturne

“Careful there, Vessar,” I growl.

“You received the confirmation?” he demands, his tone tense, clipped.

“Yes. Xander collected it from the neutral location before my men left.”

“Fuck. Fucking shit!”

I raise an eyebrow. Charon’s the one who doesn’t lose his composure. He’s the picture of cold, calculated control, always looking down on everyone with that aristocratic arrogance. It’s unnerving to hear him like this. But I’m not surprised. The shipment wasn’t just a batch of weapons—it was leverage, and now it’s gone.

“The shipment is lost,” Charon mutters, his voice low, almost like he can’t believe it himself.

I exhale sharply, feeling a surge of irritation. Losing the shipment won’t break us—it’s a minor setback in the grand scheme of things.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s lost?” I growl, frustration simmering under my skin.

“It means someone stole it, Zagan.”

Amon’s voice cuts through the tension now. His words are calculated, the same as ever, but there’s no denying this fucks with our plans.

“Explain,” Charon hisses, not even a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Xander and his team were killed. I just received the report from Ivan.”

I let out a sharp breath, grinding my teeth as the implications sink in.

“Anything else?” I ask, keeping my voice steady, calm.

“The kills are clean, skilled. Ivan ran the details through the database. It matches the pattern of Cruxis-sanctioned hits,” Amon explains.

Cruxis. Always trouble, always stirring shit up. But they wouldn’t be this reckless, not after the mess we’ve already cleaned up between us. This doesn’t feel like them—it feels like someone wants us to think it’s them.

We go quiet for a beat. We’re not weak, none of us are. But even the strongest factions can’t afford to have their operations disrupted by petty little games like this. This is going to cost us, and it’s going to cause some friction. The kind that doesn’t heal overnight.

“Cruxis won’t make the mistake of involving themselves in our affairs. Not after the recent events,” Amon says.

I don’t need to say anything—this is obvious. The rogues are making their presence known, and they’re more than just an annoyance. They’re pushing us, trying to get us off track.

“These miscreants are turning out to be a nuisance,” Charon mutters, his voice back to its usual cold control.

I can feel the tension, the need to act, but there’s no panic, no fear. We’ve survived worse. But this? This is about keeping the balance in place.

This is more than a few stolen weapons—it’s about the message they’re sending. The rogues are sending a clear signal, and it’s a problem we don’t need right now. What pisses me off is how they are screwing with us. They know exactly what they’re doing, stirring the pot just to get us distracted. And that’s exactly what they’ve done.

“They want us distracted,” I say, the thought forming in my mind before I can stop it. My steps are already carrying me toward the door, irritation flooding my veins.

“Why?” Charon asks, and I can hear the gears turning in his head.

“They didn’t steal the weapons for money. They stole them to divert our attention. It’s not the weapons they wanted,” I walk out of the casino, the cool night air cutting through me as my mind races, thinking about the bigger picture. "They want us to look elsewhere. And we’re falling for it."

The car door slams behind me as I climb in. I can feel the weight of the situation, but I’m not rattled. Annoyed, yes. But we’re still the ones in control. Losing the shipment won’t sink us—it’s the ripple effect that’s going to cause the friction we don’t need. Friction Iblis and Vessar can work to clear.

“Whatever their plan is, the conclusion is coming soon,” Amon says, and there’s no uncertainty in his voice.

“This could get out of hand. You sure you don’t need another hand, Devlin?” Charon asks, always the strategist, trying to think of every angle.

I grit my teeth, the frustration boiling over. “Why don’t you focus on tracking down our shipment, Vessar?”

I hang up before he can respond, dialling Yuri’s number immediately. The situation is already tense, but something keeps gnawing at me—something pulling me toward Ara. It's a sharp, insistent feeling. A pull I can't ignore, and I know I won’t feel right until I’ve seen her for myself.

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