Chapter 60 Fighting For Her.

Chapter 60 Fighting For Her.

~LIAM.

"They murdered his wife and daughter. Left their bodies like trash. The bastard behind it? Untouchable. No justice. No trial. So he built this place... to give justice teeth."

Michael, our tech genius, spoke quietly, answering the new recruit. Greg, or whatever the fuck his name was, had asked what drove Marcus to build the foundation. Now he stood rigid beside Micheal, eyes wide, clearly unprepared for that kind of truth. They never were.

I took a long sip from my third glass. The whiskey burned less than I wanted. High tolerance. Low expectations.

We stood in the Vault, the Foundation's deepest chamber. Above ground, we were the most prestigious consultancy firm in California. Below it, we were something else entirely.

The Vault was wide and bare, black floors polished to a mirror's sheen, matte stone walls absorbing the light. No chairs. No tables. Just space. And silence. A harsh glow poured from the overhead spotlights, catching on the centerpiece: a massive black banner with red thread stitched through the words:

"We kill so others won't have to."

At the far end, the Memorial Wall-obsidian slabs with the names of agents lost to betrayal, corruption or cause. The most sacred place down here.

Everyone wore black with a single touch of red: ties, cufflinks, dresses, gloves. Not for fashion. For meaning. Tonight wasn't about vengeance or victory. It was about remembering why we did this at all.

I stayed in the shadows, leaning against a pillar, glass loose in my hand. My suit was sharp, blood-red stitching glinting under the light. But beneath silk and steel, I felt nothing.

It had been two days since I left Scarlett shaking on that cold floor, two fucking days, and somehow, I was the one unraveling. Her voice echoed through every corner of my mind, clinging to the cracks she left behind.

I came back to the Foundation out of duty. Obligation. But the truth? I came back for this, Day Zero. The only day that ever really mattered.

I'd missed it for four years in a row, rotten in a sentence for a mission gone sideways. Marcus hadn't said a word to me since my return. Not one. And Kelvin...

Speak of the devil.

The room dimmed. A slow flicker. Then only the red glow filled the room. Every head turned toward the side corridor as four figures stepped in: Marcus, tall, sharp, a commander even with silver threading his dark hair; Councilor Mirek, nothing but bone, rules and precision; Asher, ice-eyed with a harsh voice.

And Kelvin.

Pride clung to him like a tailored armor. I laughed under my breath, dry and bitter as hell. That used to be me, walking beside Marcus like a shadow, a son. A legacy.

Now I was a ghost.

I tipped back the last of my drink as they reached the front. It burned, but not enough.

Councilor Asher's voice rang out, crisp and cold. "We gather tonight as we do every year... on the day our purpose was born. This is not a celebration. It's a vow. We honor the reason we began. The lives we could not save. And the ones we still can."

A moment of silence followed, heads bowed in unison, the room so quiet I could hear my own breath catch. I stared at the floor like it owed me something.

Then came the bullet I never saw coming.

Marcus turned to Kelvin. "You may read it."

What?

No.

It was always me who read Marcus's statement. Every year. Without fail.

I watched, stunned as Kelvin stepped forward and unfolded the worn sheet with a reverence I almost believed.

He read slowly:

"My wife's name was Ellen. My daughter's was Juliette. They were coming back from dinner. Italian... Juliette loved pasta. A drunk driver tied to a trafficking ring hit them. Witnesses said he laughed. I had proof. I had connections. Took it to the police. To the courts. The power plays.

They called it a 'tragedy.' Said the driver had 'mental health issues.' That a case would 'take years.'

So I built this place. Gathered those justice forgot, and those with fire to do what needed to be done.

We don't seek revenge. We restore balance. We eliminate rot before it spreads.

We're not assassins.

We're cleaners. Silent. Swift. Surgical.

This Foundation is not vengeance. It's the answer."

The room was held still, but my mind was anything but.

I searched Marcus's face, needing something: approval, resentment, a flicker of recognition. I got nothing. Not a glance. Not a nod.

After all the years of loyalty, the bloodshed, the sacrifices, and this was it?

He looked at Kelvin like he was the heir. Like I had never mattered.

And maybe... I didn't anymore.

The speech faded into static. Just background noise. I didn't wait for the end. My hand tightened around the empty glass, tight enough to creak. Then I turned. Took three slow steps. And without even glancing back, I hurled it against the stone wall.

It shattered.

Loud. Sharp. Final.

My footsteps echoed through the Vault like war drums. Rage climbed up my throat, acid and fire, hotter with every step.

The corridor was cold and quiet, matching the hollow pit in my chest. I exhaled. Jaw tight. Hands clenched. Heart pounding like a loaded gun.

I gave everything to this place. Once, I chose it over Scarlett.

Never again.

They could keep their silence. Their false loyalty.

She sees me. She always did.

I'd already decided to fight for her the moment I tasted her sweet response to my spanks, but this? This sealed it.

There's nothing left for me here. My place isn't with them.

It's with her.

I'm coming for you, green eyes.

And nothing-no one-will stand in my way.