Chapter 87 Quiet roads
Chapter 87 Quiet roads
Chapter 87: Quiet Roads
Night pressed down heavily on the graveyard, the kind of darkness that swallowed sound and bent shadows into something watchful. The moon hung low, pale and indifferent, casting a thin glow over crooked headstones and cracked marble angels frozen in mourning.
Scar Face moved carefully between the graves, his boots sinking softly into the earth. He hadn’t brought anyone with him. No guards. No backup. This was something he needed to see alone.
The air smelled wrong.
Not just damp soil and rot but absence. Emptiness. The kind that came after something valuable had been removed with precision.
He stopped near the old mausoleum, its iron door slightly ajar.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
He crouched, running his fingers over the ground. No messy footprints. No dragged marks. No broken tools left behind. Whoever came here hadn’t rushed. They hadn’t panicked. They had worked calmly, methodically, like surgeons cutting flesh.
Scar Face stood slowly, his jaw tightening. This wasn’t a robbery. This was an extraction.
He walked deeper, toward the hidden section, where false graves masked vaults, where years of money laundering, gold smuggling, and blood soaked deals had been buried beneath dead names and forgotten dates.
He knew exactly where to look. That was the problem.
He knelt beside one grave marked Beloved Mother. He pushed aside the flower pot, lifted the stone latch, and pried the slab open. Empty. His breath caught. He moved to the next. Then another. And another. All empty.
No forced locks. No damaged mechanisms. Even the security seals had been removed cleanly, not cut or broken, but disengaged.
Scar Face straightened slowly, dread crawling up his spine.
“They knew,” he whispered.
Only a handful of people knew how the system worked. Only insiders knew the layout, the order, the decoys. Only someone who had stood where he was standing now could have done this without triggering alarms or leaving chaos behind.
His hands curled into fists.
“This wasn’t luck,” he said to the darkness. “This was knowledge.”
A cold wind swept through the graveyard, rustling dead leaves and brushing past him like a warning.
Scar Face closed his eyes briefly, replaying every face he trusted. Every conversation. Every careless word spoken near the wrong ears.
When his eyes opened, they were sharp with rage.
“I don’t care how long it takes,” he murmured. “I don’t care who you’re hiding behind.”
His voice dropped, deadly quiet.
“I will find you.”
The wind howled softly.
“And I will kill you.”
Audrey’s room was bathed in soft light when the knock came.
She was already dressed.
Not in silk. Not in lace. She wore something simple, a black dress, clean lines, no excess. Her hair was pulled back neatly, her face bare except for calm determination.
“Come in,” she said.
The door opened to reveal a young woman with sharp eyes and steady hands. She looked ordinary enough, jeans, jacket, hair in a low ponytail but her gaze was alert, calculating.
“Ready?” the girl asked quietly.
Audrey nodded. “Yes.”
Lorrine hovered near the doorway, uneasy. “Madam, Mr. Tennessee said…”
“I didn’t ask what he said,” Audrey replied coolly.
The girl stepped forward, efficient and gentle. “I’ll help you.”
Together, they moved Audrey into the wheelchair, then carefully toward the back entrance. No announcement. No guards trailing them. Just quiet movement and timing.
Outside, the night air was cool. The pink G-Wagon waited near the back driveway, its color almost mocking against the darkness.
The girl opened the back door. “Hold onto me.”
Audrey did, her grip firm but light. With practiced ease, the girl lifted her, settling her into the back seat. She adjusted Audrey’s legs carefully, ensuring comfort, then folded the wheelchair and placed it neatly in the trunk.
“You okay?” the girl asked.
Audrey met her eyes. “I’ve been worse.”
The girl nodded and moved to the driver’s seat. The engine purred to life, smooth and quiet.
As they pulled away from the mansion, Audrey leaned her head back against the seat, watching the gates disappear behind them.
“You introduced me to Yvonne as a friend,” the girl said casually. “She didn’t ask questions.”
“She never does,” Audrey replied. “She trusts me.”
The car sped onto the road, streetlights flashing past like memories Audrey no longer bothered to hold onto.
After a few minutes, the girl spoke again. “You’re sure you want to see it yourself?”
Audrey’s lips curved faintly. “I don’t trust secondhand confirmations.”
The girl glanced at her in the mirror. “You’re colder than I imagined.”
Audrey didn’t deny it. “Cold keeps you alive.”
Silence settled between them, not awkward, but heavy with understanding.
Finally, the girl said, “We moved everything already.”
“I know,” Audrey replied.
“No one followed us. The graveyard job was clean.”
“I know.”
The girl hesitated. “Scar Face went back tonight.”
Audrey’s eyes flickered with interest. “Good.”
“He’ll figure it out.”
Audrey smiled slightly. “That’s the point.”
The girl took a sharp turn onto a darker road, the city lights fading behind them. “I’m taking you to where we kept the treasures after robbing the graveyard.”
Audrey exhaled slowly, steadying herself.
“Perfect,” she said.
The G-Wagon disappeared into the night, carrying secrets, stolen billions, and a woman everyone still believed was broken, rolling steadily toward the next move in the game.