The middle-aged man—Donald—slowly lifted his head.
His expression?
Blank.
No denial. No excuse.
Just the quiet acceptance of a man caught at the end of his rope.
Adam took a slow step forward, his face contorting between disbelief and fury.
“You—” His voice came out strained, barely above a whisper, like the words fought against his throat.
“You were my comrade.”
A statement. A fact.
And yet, at this moment, it sounded like an accusation.
Donald’s lips twitched, but whether it was an attempt at a smirk or a grimace—it was unclear.
“Things change,” he muttered.
His voice—once trusted—was now engulfed with something foreign.
Something dead.
Adam took another step forward. His hands clenched at his sides.
“All these years…”
His voice dropped lower, darker.
“You were one of us.”
Donald chuckled bitterly. “Was I?”
Adam stopped.
Noah watched carefully, arms crossed, reading every micro-expression in Donald’s face.
This wasn’t just about normal betrayal. It was deeper than that.
Much deeper.
It was the betrayal of someone you trusted with your life, a comrade that you would catch a bullet for.
This was deeply personal.”I was never one of you,” he said. “I just played the part.”Adam’s hands curled into fists. His jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might shatter. His entire body radiated rage—pure, unfiltered fury.
“Donald.”
His voice was low, dangerous. A single word carrying the weight of years of camaraderie, trust—all of it shattered.
“I will make sure you spill every single word.”
Donald didn’t flinch. He smirked instead, his lips curling into something bitter. “You think I’d let you do that?”
The moment the words left his mouth—he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
His hand shot down to his hip, fingers curling around cold steel. The glint of metal flashed under the dim lighting. A heartbeat later—
He aimed straight at Adam.
The room snapped into chaos.
Soldiers tensed, hands rushing as they aimed at Donald—but they were a fraction too slow. They hadn’t expected it. No one had.
A single gunshot rang out.
Not Donald’s.
Noah’s.
The crack of the bullet split through the warehouse like a whip of thunder.
Donald screamed.
His entire body jerked violently as his hand exploded in pain. Blood splattered across the floor, his fingers twitching uncontrollably as his gun clattered to the ground.
A gaping, ragged hole was now torn clean through his palm, the bullet ripping flesh and bone apart with surgical precision. He had never even pulled the trigger.
Donald staggered, gasping for breath, his knees buckling.
“Arghhh!” His scream was guttural, raw. His mind reeled from the pain, from the sheer speed of what had just happened.
“Subdue him!” Adam’s voice boomed across the warehouse, his heartbeat still racing from how close he had been to death.
The soldiers lunged.
Within seconds, Donald was forced to the ground, biting dirt, his injured arm twisted behind his back. Two men pinned him down, another securing his legs. There was no escape now.
Adam exhaled sharply, trying to calm the storm inside him. His gaze flickered toward Noah.
Noah stood there, completely unfazed. His grip on his weapon was still firm, his breathing steady. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just saved Adam’s life with a single bullet.
Adam’s lips parted, words failing him for a second before he found his voice. “Why the hell does he still have his gun?”
Noah’s eyes flickered with something sharp. Something cold.
“I wanted him to think he had a chance.”
Silence.
Adam’s brows furrowed, his anger briefly giving way to confusion. “What?”
Noah’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “It’ll help with breaking him in the interrogation room, later.”
Donald groaned from the floor, his breathing ragged, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as shock settled in. His face contorted in pain, but his mind was reeling for a different reason.
He had thought—no, he had believed—that he had a chance.
That was the trap.
That was Noah’s game.
And he had walked straight into it.
Adam exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he processed Noah’s words. His gaze settled back on Donald, watching him struggle, his confidence shattered.
And he had walked straight into it.
Adam almost pitied the bastard.
Almost.
His eyes flicked back to Noah. “And if he doesn’t talk?”
Noah’s smirk didn’t fade. His voice was quiet, lethal.
“Then you let me handle it.”
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Adam studied him carefully, the way he stood, the way he carried himself—unshaken, untouched by hesitation. There was no doubt in his mind that Noah meant every word he said.
Adam had seen a lot of things in his years of service. He had fought wars, and faced death head-on.
But there was something about Noah Thompson that sent a shiver down his spine.
And for the nth time,1 Adam truly wondered—
Just what kind of monster had Amelia stumbled into?
…
Adam watched as Donald and Riner were hauled into the waiting vehicle, their wrists tightly bound. The car doors slammed shut. He let out a slow breath before turning to face Noah, who stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
For a long moment, Adam just studied him.
The young man had just eliminated twenty assassins, protected a high-value scientist, and exposed a traitor in their ranks. And yet, he stood there as none of it had affected him.
Adam finally spoke, his voice steady but tinged with respect.
“Noah… you’ve done a great service. You went above and beyond expectations.” He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering.
“I will make sure your achievements are not overlooked in the slightest. You will receive the recognition you deserve. Not only did you take out twenty assassins and save the scientist, but you also rooted out a traitor who was dangerously close to us.”
Noah tilted his head slightly, his expression calm. “You’re overpraising me, Lieutenant.”
Adam scoffed. “Don’t be modest.”
Noah’s smirk was faint, almost imperceptible. “I wouldn’t have done it without your support.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Cut the crap, Noah. You didn’t just ‘do your job.’ You owned this mission. You saw things before they happened. You played the enemy like a damn game of chess.”
Noah gave a nonchalant shrug. “If you say so.”
Adam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He wanted to push further, to get a reaction out of the man who had just pulled off a near-impossible operation. But Noah remained as unreadable as ever.
Adam let out a tired chuckle. “Now get out of here and get some rest, before I start thinking you’re some kind of war machine instead of a human being.”
Noah returned to his parents’ house at around 6 a.m., the faintest hint of dawn barely creeping over the horizon.
Inside, Caroline and David were already awake, preparing for work. The soft hum of the coffee machine filled the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the crisp morning air.
When they heard the front door click open, both of them exchanged a glance before turning toward the entrance. Seeing Noah step inside, they thought he was asleep in his room.
“Noah?” Caroline called out, her voice laced with curiosity and mild concern. “Where were you at this time? The sun isn’t even out yet.”
Noah paused for a beat, then offered a small, easy smile. “Just went outside for a breather.”
His tone was light, casual, betraying nothing.
Caroline and David studied him for a moment as if searching for something unsaid. Then, as if coming to a silent agreement, they nodded.
“Alright,” David said, taking a sip of his tea.
Noah gave a faint nod before making his way to his room. The moment the door shut behind him, Caroline let out a sigh, glancing at David.
“He’s probably stressed about starting university,” she murmured, absently stirring her tea.
David exhaled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah… It’s a big step. He’s never been the type to show nerves, but maybe it’s getting to him.” Continue your journey on My Virtual Library Empire
means you can’t count it. He had done it too many times.
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