Chapter 9) The Web
The apartment reeked of sweat, metal, and desperation.
Elar Varn sat duct-taped to a chair in the center of the room, blood crusted at his temple, one eye swollen halfway shut. His breath came slow but steady, as if he'd been in worse situations and had learned the value of pacing his panic.
Vey leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his expression carved from stone.
Cael crouched in front of their captive, staring him down.
"You've got one chance, Varn," Cael said, voice low. "Start talking. Who's behind the shipments? What's happening in Arven?"
Varn smirked, lips splitting slightly.
"I was wondering when you'd ask the right questions."
Vey didn't wait. "Then give the right answers."
Varn looked at him for a long second. "You really think I'm the boss? I'm just logistics. A cog. You boys intercepted one crate and now think you've seen the big picture?" He chuckled bitterly. "You haven't even opened the damn door yet."
Cael's hand twitched near the knife on the table, but he stopped himself.
"You're gonna open it for us. Now."
"Why should I?" Varn said. "You think tying me to a chair scares me more than the people I work for?"
Vey took a step forward. "You don't seem to get it, old man. We're not part of anyone's script. If we're screwed, so are you."
For the first time, something flickered in Varn's eyes , not fear, but calculation. He shifted slightly in the chair, testing the cords. They didn't budge.
"I tell you what I know," he said slowly, "you let me disappear. I vanish, change my face, and you two get to live another week. Maybe."
Cael and Vey exchanged a glance.
"You're in no position to bargain," Cael said, but even he sounded uncertain.
"You want the truth or not?" Varn snapped.
Silence.
Then Cael nodded. "Talk."
Varn sighed and leaned back.
"The group behind this,'Powder Vein,' we called it years ago. It's not just black-market smugglers. It's a pipeline. Guns, tech, information,moving through cracks in the system that aren't supposed to exist. And the cracks? They're made on purpose."
Vey frowned. "By who?"
Varn's voice dropped.
"By the Circle. Your Circle. They're orchestrating it. Feeding both sides of the Arven line. One spark, and boom. Civil unrest becomes an excuse. An invasion becomes a rescue op. Everything looks clean on paper."
Cael felt something coil in his gut. "Why?"
"Control," Varn said. "They don't want war. They want order. But to get that, they need chaos first. The kind they can shape."
The words hung heavy in the air.
"You're lying," Vey said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Varn didn't even blink. "I wish I was."
A sudden silence wrapped around them.
Cael looked toward the windows. The city outside was quiet. Too quiet.
Vey moved toward the table, hands twitching.
"What else?" he asked. "What's happening in Arven specifically?"
Varn hesitated.
Then: "A false flag. A hit on a civilian compound dressed up as a border incursion. Weapons from both sides planted at the scene. We are just waiting on the event."
Cael clenched his fists. "When?"
Varn looked up.
"Soon."
Vey paced.
"This is insane," he muttered. "And the Circle knows?"
"They're writing the playbook."
Cael's stomach twisted.
"How do we stop it?"
"You don't," Varn said. "You survive it."
Cael opened his mouth to speak…
Then stopped.
A faint sound. A low, rhythmic ping.
It didn't come from outside.
Cael turned slowly, eyes scanning the room. The noise grew louder , steady, electronic.
Varn's smile returned. Cold. Final.
"You really didn't check me thoroughly, huh?"
Cael's eyes widened.
"No…"
But it was too late.
Varn looked up, grinning like death itself.
"You're out of time."
Vey lunged forward. "What the hell did you do?"
Varn didn't flinch. "You triggered it when you knocked me out. The chip's under my collarbone. Deep tissue. You wouldn't have found it even if you had scanned me."
Cael moved to the window and yanked the curtain open.
In the distance, two black flying particles crested over the rooftops. Fast. Sleek. No markings.
Vey swore. "They tracked us…"
"They're already here," Varn said, calm as ice. "You kidnapped the wrong man. You picked the wrong war. And now…"
He leaned forward in the chair, whispering through a wicked grin.
"…they're coming for you."