Volume 6: The Flame of Vengeance
Summary: Jack and Kevin travel to the Caribbean to investigate the offshore company. They discover it is merely a shell, concealing an even larger conspiracy.
Under the dim Brooklyn streetlights, Kevin flipped through the documents with a grave expression. Shadows danced across his face as the flickering light reflected his furrowed brow. Jack stood nearby, cigarette burning between his fingers, the glowing ember like the restless fire smoldering in his chest.
"Neptune International." Kevin set the papers down, lifting his gaze. His voice was low. "That name sounds suspicious already. Combine that with 'offshore' and 'Caribbean,' and you've got yourself a perfect storm of secrecy—and corruption."
Jack exhaled a slow ring of smoke, its haze obscuring his sharp, calculating eyes. "Richard wouldn't move this much money just for tax evasion. I suspect something far worse—smuggling, drugs, maybe even arms trafficking."
Kevin nodded. "You're probably right. Offshore companies operate under layers of legal camouflage. Tracing their real origins takes time and skill. But I'll do what I can."
"We don't have much time," Jack said, stubbing out the cigarette. "Richard must know something's off by now. He won't let us get too close."
"I understand." Kevin patted his shoulder. "I have contacts in the Bahamas who specialize in offshore finance. I'll ask them to dig into Neptune International's registration records, shareholder structure, and financial flows."
Jack added, "Also check if the company has ties to any other questionable entities. No lead is too small."
Kevin gave a short nod and pulled out his phone, dialing into the night wind that scattered his words into silence.
As Jack watched him work, a rare warmth stirred inside him. In the darkest chapter of his life, Kevin had been his only ally—the last thread connecting him to the world he once ruled.
"Oh, and Kevin," Jack suddenly remembered, "check who their legal counsel is. Richard always plays it safe. He'd hire a lawyer well-versed in offshore law."
Kevin paused, then nodded again. "Good point. Lawyers are key players in these setups. I'll keep an eye out for that."
They exchanged a few more details before Kevin left. Jack remained at the corner, the icy New York air biting his skin. The road of vengeance was lined with thorns, but he was ready to bleed for every step forward.
Over the next few days, Jack returned to the rhythm of survival—lining up for food at shelters, sleeping on park benches. To the outside world, he was still a forgotten man, a homeless ghost drifting through the city.
But beneath the surface, the storm was gathering. He waited patiently—for Kevin's findings, for the moment opportunity would strike.
Meanwhile, Richard Carter sat in his opulent Wall Street office, his face dark with fury.
"Useless! All of you are useless!" he bellowed into the phone. "You couldn't even track one damn man! Have you found Rat yet?"
A hesitant voice came from the other end. "Mr. Carter, we've searched all over New York. Rat has vanished. It's like he never existed."
"Keep searching! Tear this city apart until you find him!" Richard roared. "And monitor Jack Morrison's movements. I believe he's already moving against me."
"Yes, Mr. Carter."
The line went dead. Richard slammed the receiver onto the desk, his chest rising and falling rapidly, rage boiling inside him like molten lava.
He realized Jack Morrison hadn't fallen as deeply as he had hoped. He was alive—and striking back.
"Jack Morrison… I underestimated you," Richard muttered, his eyes glinting with cold murder. "But you'll never beat me. I won't let you leave New York alive."
He picked up another phone and dialed a hidden number. "Hello. This is Richard Carter. I need your help with something…"
At the same time, Jack was deep in the public library, poring over information about offshore companies. Their structures were labyrinthine, spanning multiple jurisdictions. Uncovering the truth required both patience and precision.
But he didn't give up. He believed persistence would crack even the strongest shell.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen—an unknown number.
After a brief hesitation, he answered. "Yes, who is this?"
A low male voice responded, "Mr. Jack Morrison? I have some information about Neptune International that you might find interesting."
Jack's pulse quickened. "This is he. Who are you?"
"That's not important," the voice replied. "What matters is that I know things you want to know. If you're interested, meet me tomorrow night at eight, at the old warehouse under the Brooklyn Bridge. And come alone."
The line disconnected. Jack stared at the silent phone, his expression unreadable.
He didn't know who the caller was or what their intentions were. But he did know this was a chance—a rare opportunity to uncover the truth behind Neptune International.
He decided to take the risk. He trusted his instincts. And his instincts told him—he could survive anything.
The next evening, Jack arrived at the agreed location. The area was desolate, lit only by a few flickering lamps casting long shadows across the ground.
He scanned the surroundings carefully, ensuring no one else was watching, before stepping cautiously toward the open warehouse door.
Inside, darkness swallowed everything. Jack took a deep breath and walked in.
"You're here," a voice echoed from the shadows.
Jack turned. A man in a black trench coat stood in the center of the room, his face obscured by the dim light.
"Who are you?" Jack asked.
"That doesn't matter," the man replied. "What matters is that I know exactly what you're after."
Jack stepped closer. "Then tell me. What do you know?"
The man hesitated, then spoke slowly. "Neptune International isn't just a tool for Richard Carter's money laundering. It's the financial hub for a massive criminal syndicate involved in smuggling, drug trafficking, and illegal arms deals."
Jack's heart sank. "Do you know who runs this organization?"
The man shook his head. "No. But I can tell you—they're powerful. Deeply connected. Taking them down won't be easy."
"Tell me everything you know," Jack demanded firmly.
The man began revealing what he knew about Neptune International. Jack listened intently, memorizing every word.
But halfway through the conversation, the heavy warehouse door burst open with a violent kick.
A group of muscular men in black suits stormed in, surrounding them instantly.
"Jack Morrison," one of them sneered. "We've been waiting for you."
Jack's blood ran cold. He had walked straight into a trap.