Chapter 1363:


    They worked with practiced efficiency, removing each device in hushed urgency.


    Laurence, however, shattered the quiet with childlike delight. “This is thrilling. We must do it again soon.”


    The trackers red crimson the moment his voice registered. They were about to be exposed. Chris grabbed the four devices, gave a curt nod to the two workers, and bolted.


    The two workers hoisted Laurence into the truck’s cavernous belly and fired the engine.


    Laurence’s smile faltered as he realized Chris was gone. “Grandson?” he called, voice cracking.


    Before panic could rise, a gloved hand pressed a syringe to his neck. Laurence’s eyelids drooped, his body slumping into merciful darkness.


    “Forgive us, sir. It is for your protection,” one of the two men murmured, withdrawing the empty sedative. He then said to hispanion, “To the ambnce. Move!”


    Chris sprinted through service corridors, lungs burning, pulse hammering. His mission was halfplete. Laurence was secured. Now, to retrieve Maia and vanish before rms sounded.


    He slowed as a waiter crossed his path. With theatrical ease, he pped the man’s shoulder. “Harry! Moonlighting here too?”


    While the bewildered server opened his mouth to protest, Chris’s fingers slid the four blinking trackers into the back pocket in one seamless motion.


    “Who’s Harry?” the waiter sputtered.


    “My mistake. Thought you were an old friend,” Chris answered with an apologetic grin before melting back into the crowd.


    Kiley would discover Laurence’s disappearance any minute, and it was best if he and Maia were not present for that.


    Raegan swept into the banquet hall,posure fraying at the edges.


    ???????? ?????????????? ???? ??????????????????.??????


    Several members of The Mask immediately converged around her like shadows.


    “Ma’am, is that man one of ours?” one hissed, gesturing toward the figure in a gleaming silver half-mask.


    Raegan froze mid-step. She followed the operative’s pointing finger across the room and felt ice flood her veins.


    A tall figure stood near the auction podium wearing a gleaming silver half-mask that covered the upper portion of his face.


    Raegan’s breath caught. She recognized that mask.


    The mask belonged to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Thirteenth rank. Codename Death. Grayson Jones. Master of disguise and corpse disposal. A top detective in Wildebell.


    Ice flooded her veins.


    Low-ranking members knew nothing of the Four Horsemen. They could not grasp the catastrophe unfolding.


    The leader’s warning echoed in her skull. If Death walked openly, the leader himself might lurk among them, witnessing her every move.


    Panic wed upward. She seized the nearest subordinate. “Speak. What did he do?”


    The man swallowed hard. “He bid one billion five hundred million on Maia’s jewelry. Then offered three billion for ‘Angel’s Tear.''”


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