CHAPTER 112: REVENGE??

Flashback

The extraction aircraft roared through the night sky, its interior dimly lit by the faint red glow of the cabin lights. The seats rattled softly with turbulence, the smell of oil and steel mixing with the cold air that seeped in from the ramp behind them.

Ghost sat still, mask lowered, his sharp eyes fixed on the small figure huddled under a rough gray blanket. The boy looked fragile, knees tucked up to his chest, his eyes swollen from crying but now hollow, staring at nothing.

Another Graveyard mercenary leaned back, his rifle resting across his lap. He glanced at the boy, then at Ghost, shaking his head. "Poor little kid," he muttered under the sound of the engines. "His parents... were slaughtered by his own uncle. All for property and business. What kind of family does that?"

Ghost’s gaze hardened. His voice came low, edged with something deeper than anger. "Can family always be trusted? Sometimes people who aren’t bound by blood are far better than the ones who are. Like his family lawyer... the only one who cared enough to pay for his extraction."

The mercenary smirked faintly, looking toward Ghost. "Like Graveyard. We’re not a real family either, but we’re stronger than one."

Ghost said nothing, only stood up from his seat. His boots thudded softly against the steel floor as he walked toward the small corner where a battered coffee machine was bolted down. He pressed a button, listening as the hot liquid hissed into a metal cup. From his vest pocket, he pulled out a small pack of cocoa powder—a rare item he always kept, a tiny luxury in their bloody world. He stirred it in until the warm, sweet smell filled the air, out of place in the cold, mechanical atmosphere of the aircraft.

The mercenary watched him with a puzzled look but didn’t speak.

Ghost turned back, cup in hand, walking slowly toward the boy. He knelt down so his eyes were level with the child’s.

"Your name is Mateo, right?"

The boy’s head lifted slowly, his large, tear-brimmed eyes locking onto Ghost. His lips trembled, his voice small, fragile. "Y... yes."

Ghost extended the cup toward him, steady and calm. "Here. Have this. It will ease your mind."

The boy stared at the steam rising from the cup, then at the man offering it. With trembling hands, he reached out and accepted it, the warmth seeping into his frozen fingers.

He looked up again, voice breaking, eyes soft with gratitude.

"Thank you... brother."

Present

The underground parking was heavy with silence, the kind that made every sound echo ten times louder.

The sharp click of heels against concrete carried across the vast space.

Miles had one hand on the car door, his other resting casually in his pocket. A faint smirk curled his lips as he turned, his sharp gaze falling on the approaching figures. April leaned out from the other side of the car, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she spotted the two women.

The air between them was tense even before a word was spoken.

Silvey’s voice broke first. "Miles, wait. I want to talk."

They stopped in front of him, the echo of their steps fading, replaced by the hum of distant engines.

Miles studied her with calm detachment, then smiled coldly. "So, why does the young miss of a corporate giant like ACE want to talk to a local city businessman?"

His words were sharp, a blade hidden in courtesy. Silvey flinched slightly at the weight in his tone. She heard not just suspicion, but complaint, a wall carefully built around every word.

Taking a breath, she introduced herself. "Miles, I am Silvey Sterling—"

But before she could finish, Miles cut her off, his voice slicing through hers. "I know exactly who you are. Get to the point, Miss Silvey. My family is waiting for me at home."

Silvey hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. "It’s about Grandpa Tim’s disappearance. I have someone investigating it. And also, I want to talk to you... you are family."

Miles’ smile faded, his expression sharpening with a chill. "Family?" His voice carried weight now, a cold laugh beneath it. "I see you call him Grandpa. Seems like you know about him more than me. To be honest, I don’t care about my missing grandfather. I don’t even remember him. And why should I care? Where were you all these years when the so-called family abandoned us?"

Silvey opened her mouth, then faltered. She had no answer, her silence speaking louder than words. Finally, her voice came out quiet. "I... I didn’t know about it till now."

Miles’ eyes narrowed. "Of course you didn’t know." His tone grew heavier, colder. "Listen, Miss Silvey. I don’t have time to sit here talking about old family bonds. I don’t know them, and I don’t want to know. I have my own life here."

Silvey gathered herself, her tone firm though her heart raced. "But you have the blood of Sterling flowing in you. You are still family to us."

Miles stepped closer, his shadow falling across her as he leaned in just enough to make her breath catch. His words were low, sharp like steel. "To us? And who exactly does this ’us’ include? Because I don’t believe anyone hiding under the umbrella of the ACE group."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes dark. "Let me ask you something. Imagine this. If people from another branch of your family killed your father, what would you do?"

The question hit her like a strike. Silvey’s breath caught, confusion flashing across her face. "What...?"

Miles’ voice was harder now. "Answer me."

Silvey swallowed, thinking of her father, her chest tightening at the very thought. "I... I would definitely want revenge. My family would seek justice."

Miles’ expression shifted instantly, his smirk gone, his gaze sharp and cold like ice. "Exactly. Then you should be happy, Miss Silvey... that Miles Sterling hasn’t yet taken his revenge on your so-called ’real’ Sterling family."

Silvey froze, the weight of his words sinking into her chest like stones. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Miles didn’t wait. He opened the car door and slid inside, his movements calm yet final. A moment later, the engine roared, and the car pulled away, disappearing into the dim lights of the underground lot.

Silvey stood rooted, his words echoing in her mind like thunder. "Revenge... on the Sterling family?"

Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched her arm.

Diane stepped closer, concern on her face. "Are you alright, ma’am?"

Silvey’s eyes remained locked on the fading taillights, her voice low, almost trembling. "If what he said is true... then there are questions I need answers for."

The car slid smoothly through the glowing veins of Star Harbor, neon lights washing the windshield in waves of red and blue. April kept her gaze on Miles, her brows knitted slightly, sensing the weight in his silence.

"Are you alright, Miles?" she asked softly, her tone carrying both worry and warmth.

Miles turned his head, his smile calm but practiced. "It’s nothing. Everything’s fine. Forget whatever you heard earlier."

April held his eyes for a moment, searching for the truth behind the mask, but when Miles kept that steady smile, she exhaled lightly and nodded. "Okay," she said with a small smile of her own.

The car eased to a stop outside a quiet restaurant tucked under the city lights. Inside, they shared dinner, conversation slipping into lighter topics. April laughed now and then, while Miles kept her company with that calm, grounding presence. Yet, even in laughter, there was a quiet shadow behind his eyes, one he never let reach the surface.

Later, the car rolled through the veins of the city again, the skyline stretching high, wrapped in its crown of lights. The car slowed, then stopped in front of April’s home.

"Here you go," Miles said as he unlocked the door.

April stepped out, the night breeze brushing through her hair. She turned back, smiling. "Good night, Miles."

"Good night, April," he answered, his tone steady but warm.

She walked toward her house, and before entering, turned once more, her smile glowing under the porch light. She lifted her hand, waving softly.

Miles lingered, watching until the door closed behind her. Only then did he press his foot down, the car gliding back into the night.

By the time he reached Pearl Villa, the world outside was silent again. He stepped onto the balcony, the cool air brushing against his skin as the city twinkled in the distance.

He dialed Monica. The line clicked open, her voice crisp yet familiar. "Can’t sleep, boss?"

"No," Miles admitted, his tone carrying a trace of thought. "I met Silvey Sterling today."

Monica’s voice sharpened with curiosity. "Your other cousin? How is she?"

Miles’ eyes narrowed slightly, recalling her expression, her hesitation, the way she carried herself. "She looks sharp. But I don’t know how strong she is emotionally. For now, I want you to keep an eye on her. She’ll confirm the real culprit for us."

There was a small pause, then Monica’s chuckle flowed through the line. "You’re clever."

Miles smirked faintly. "You doubt?"

"Not at all," Monica replied firmly.

The call ended, leaving him alone with the silence of the night. He leaned against the balcony rail, the phone slipping into his pocket. His gaze fixed on the horizon, his voice low, almost like a whisper meant only for himself.

"Silvey Sterling... your face says a lot of stories. And tonight, I’ve given you one story of your own. Now find out who the real culprit is... for me."