NovelBookChapter 383 KESTER.
I swear to fuck, I was done listening to this prick while he choked my mate almost to death.
I was ready to damn every fucking consequence and storm toward him, rip his throat out and take Kasmine to safety, even if I ended up with a bullet to the heart.
But Saint spoke before I could make a move.
Just one line.
"You're burning through your safehouses faster than your men can die, Nagel." And that stopped the fucker.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtNagel's hand stilled just a little around Kasmine's throat, his eyes snapping to Saint with interest.
"What the fuck do you mean?" Nagel asked.
"Twenty-one locations. Three this week alone. Want to guess how I knew about the basement off Durham Street? Or that little bank vault in Abuja you're using to move cash?" Saint dropped down his rifle and tilted his head slightly, just enough to suggest he wasn't pressed, as if he were having a conversation in a boardroom. "You've got a rat," Saint continued, "And I'm the only person alive who knows who it is. I mean, the very rat who's been feeding your ops to that Colombian handler you thought you paid off months ago." That made Nagel twitch, like his instincts were turning on each other. It was quick, but I saw it.
"Like hell you do," Nagel scoffed.
"Yeah. I do. And I know what they gave up. How much. To who. I can list names, routes, cash drops... even your last burner ID. Wantto keep going?" Nagel didn't speak. But his grip on Kasmine loosened, just slightly.
"Every attack you've suffered in the past six months? Wasn't luck or surveillance. It was him. Or her. Maybe even more than one." Saint shrugged casually.
I looked between them, not sure what the fuck I was watching anymore. This wasn't a negotiation. It was a live autopsy, and Saint was cutting into Nagel where it shook the most.
Did mention how calm and unbothered Saint's voice sounded? He spoke as if he were reading a grocery list, and somehow that made it ten times more terrifying. Of course, not for someone like me.
Dude's a fucking psychopath. No one can tellotherwise.
"You're bluffing," Nagel spat.
Saint smirked. “Am I? Then shoot. Let's see how long your next run lasts before your next warehouse gets hit, your safe house goes hot, or your brother's convoy mysteriously explodes in Paraguay." The asshole brought out a stick of cigarette and lit it casually before speaking again.
"I didn't chere to negotiate for a girl. I cto trade information for your survival. You have a traitor. I know who it is. But if you kill her," Saint's eyes flicked to Kasmine, “I let him keep feeding your enemies." He stepped closer again. One more inch and Nagel's men would've raised their guns.
But they didn't.
Even they were starting to look unsure.
"Worse, Saint added coldly, now only a few feet from Nagel. "I could give you a wrong name. You torture the wrong man, Waste your time. Make man enemies inside your camp.
Meanwhile, the real rat keeps leaking.
intel, until the floor drops beneath you and no one's there to pull you out." Nagel's nostrils flared. Sweat beaded just under his hairline. He was cracking, and I swear to hell, he knew it.
"You don't scare me," he hissed through clenched jaws. I Saint heard a lot about you. I fucking know all your tricks. But you won't getthis time."
Saint cocked his head, almost disappointed. "If you've heard about his me," he took a long drag from t cigarette, slowly puffing out the smoke before he added, Then you should know I don't bluff, Nagel Vale." Nagel opened his mouth, probably to spit another threat, but Saint beat him to it.
"Villa off Rue Marceau. Two hours outside Bordeaux. Hidden drive. No paper trail. Heavy green gates. Ivy creeping up the walls." Nagel went stiff.
Saint exhaled like he just dropped the final card in a ghe knew he'd already won.
"Three bedrooms. One solar backup. One panic room beneath the kitchen floor. You lined it with lead and concrete. Very old school, by the way."
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