Page 107 of Crossing Lines

Mert’s smirk deepens, but it’s not the grin of a man with power; it’s the sneer of someone taking pleasure in chaos he didn’t create. “Rumors? Funny how they can be the downfall of even the most untouchable, isn’t it?” He glances at me with satisfaction. “But I didn’t start those.”

My pulse kicks up, a low thrum in my ears.He didn’t start them? That can’t be right.The words echo through my mind, sharp as a knife’s edge. The way he said it, so offhand, so lacking in the usual bravado—it sets off alarm bells, loud and insistent.

Mert’s not the mastermind; he’s a bystander, a scavenger feeding off someone else’s game.

Nina’s gaze darts to mine, and I know she’s piecing it together too.

“You’re not the one behind all this, are you?” I ask. “You’re just latching on to the scraps.”

Mert’s smirk falters for a fraction of a second, just long enough for me to see it. Then he shrugs, tilting his drink back with a lazy air. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Either way, I get to watch you bleed a little.”

It’s not a confession, but it doesn’t need to be. The look in his eyes tells me everything: Mert might have played a part, but someone bigger, someone more strategic, is pulling the strings.

“You’ve dug your grave,” I say. “When this comes back on you, remember that you chose it.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but I don’t wait to hearit. I grab Nina’s hand and leave, my mind already racing with the implications.

Once we’re back in my car, Nate and Zeki turn to face us from the front seats.

“How did it go?” Zeki asks.

“It’s not him,” I say, still shocked. “Quincy, yes. But everything else? The rumors, the sponsor issues, the apparel sabotage? It’s someone else.”

“Who though?” Nina asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But maybe it’s time to meet with Harold. Maybe he’s heard something since he’s so well-connected.”

“I hate that guy,” Nina says.

“I know, but it’s just a drink.”

“Fine,” Nina says. “You meet with him, and I’m going to have a word with Quincy. Find out where he stands in all this.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, squeezing her hand in mine, grateful she’s got my back in this.

The cocktail bar I’m meeting Harold at is a sleek,modern oasis perched high above the city.I sit at a table near the window. The panoramic view of the glittering skyline of Skyrise is a stark contrast to the cool,minimalist interior.The soft jazz music creates a sophisticated yet relaxed atmosphere.

Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long before Haroldarrives and sits across from me.

“Evren,” he says, a large grin splitting his wrinkled face. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” I slide him the whiskey I ordered for him. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

He takes a leisurely sip and says, “My favorite, thanks for ordering it. But I have to say, I’m surprised you finally took me up on my offer.”

“You know how it is, running a business,”I say, swirling my own whiskey before taking a sip.“You get so wrapped up in it, you almost miss the whispers that start circling about you.”

“People will always have something to say, but it’s usually nothing. What have you been hearing?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to ask you about. You’re so well-connected. I’m sure you know more than me.”

“Hmm, Ihavebeen around a lot longer than you have.” Harold chuckles, a smug look on his face. “And there are some rumors going around…”

“Oh? What are they saying?”

“Nothing good. All negative things about how you conduct business and how unhappy the players are under you.”

“Hmm,” I say. “Anything else?”

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