?Chapter 1569:


    Chris paused, one eyebrow arching slightly. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice low. “Did something happen to Grandpa? Or is Raegan causing trouble again?”


    Grayson spoke quickly, urgency threading through every word. “Kolton has justnded back in Wront. Our contact inside the police tipped us off—he called them himself the moment the private jet touched down. He’s requesting protective custody and wants to turn state’s evidence.”


    Chris’s pupils shrank sharply. That was trouble. Why would Koltone back now, of all times? The phone call Chris had made earlier was only meant to back him into a corner—to force a quiet surrender, not send him flying straight into Wront to hand himself over on a silver tter.


    For all his nning, Chris had never expected Kolton to outmaneuver him, slipping through the blockade andnding directly in the city. Wront was no ordinary ce. It was the covert operatives’ fortress, their stronghold for years. They had long since burrowed into everyyer of power—including the police force. What looked like surrender on the surface was Kolton walking straight into a trap.


    “Move fast—send people to protect him now,” Chris ordered, his voice cutting like steel. “The police can’t be trusted. The covert operatives already have eyes on him. If they get there first, he’s dead.”


    “Understood, sir. The special unit is already en route.” Grayson hesitated briefly. “There’s one more thing. Raegan is causing chaos again. She’s demanding to see you. I have her locked in a room for now.”


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    Chris’s brows knitted together, irritation shing across his face. “No,” he said, waving a hand. “I have no interest in seeing her.”


    On the Wront Airport expressway, a police cruiser sliced through the darkness, its siren silent but its emergency lights painting the night in frantic pulses of red and blue.


    Kolton sat hunched in the back seat, pressed tightly into the corner. His once-immacte custom suit was torn and filthy, stained beyond recognition. His hair hung in greasy strands, his face unshaven and hollow. He looked more like a vagrant than the powerful man he had once been.


    The journey back had been a nightmare of near-death escapes. Smugglers had betrayed him, gangs had hunted him, and he’d been forced to steal identities, cash, and dignity—scurrying through shadows like a cornered rat. In the end, he had swallowed everyst shred of pride and begged an old acquaintance for a seat on their private ne. It was his only way out.


    Once inside the airport’s tight security perimeter, those who wanted him dead couldn’t risk making a move.


    As Kolton stared out at the familiar city streets sliding past, exhaustion and emptiness filled his eyes. Once, he had ruled Wront from the shadows—every corner of the city bending to his will. Now he was nothing more than a prisoner being delivered to judgment.


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