Adam kept looking at the email.
For a few seconds, he did not move.
’George?’ Adam thought.
He read the ssage again.
Your police asset is with . If you want him alive, listen to .
George.
Adam’s first reaction was not fear.
It was surprise.
’Has George gone mad?’ Adam thought. ’What is he doing?’
Then another email arrived. Adam opened it.
If you want to save this asset, you will follow my words.
Then another ca.
You used him. Now I have him.
More emails followed after that.
George did not write long ssages. Every ssage was short and angry. He kept pushing the sa demand again and again.
Adam’s eyes beca colder.
Rovan was in danger.
That much was clear.
But after the first shock passed, Adam’s mind settled.
He took a deep breath.
’I don’t care.’ Adam thought.
The answer inside him was very clear.
Whether Rovan lived or died did not matter to him.
Rovan was only an asset. A useful one, yes, but still only an asset. If that asset was already in George’s hands, then trying to save him would only give George more value.
’The more I entertain George, the more he will try to pull from .’ Adam thought.
So Adam did not reply. He did not send one word.
He simply turned the phone in his hand and looked at it for a mont.
Then he broke it.
The screen cracked under his grip.
Adam threw the broken phone aside. That line was dead now.
He did not feel regret.
If Rovan had already been caught, then Rovan was finished as an information line. Trying to save him would only tell George that he had found sothing valuable.
Adam could not give him that.
On the other side, George kept sending emails.
One after another.
He waited.
At first, George waited with a cold face.
He expected a reply.
Anyone who used an asset would at least react when that asset was caught. That was how most people worked. They were greedy with their pieces. They wanted to save what they had used.
But the inbox stayed empty.
George checked the screen again.
The inbox was still empty, so he sent one more ssage.
Nothing ca back.
The silence from the other side began to feel like an insult.
No reply ca.
George refreshed the inbox again, but nothing changed. The hostage was supposed to pull the enemy closer. Instead, the silence told him that the person behind Rovan did not care enough to answer.
That made George’s anger worse. He had used threats before, and people usually reacted when soone they used was dragged into danger. This ti, the other side was not moving at all. It felt like he was shouting at a closed door.
The room he was in was not large. A single table stood near the wall. A chair had been placed in the middle. Rovan was tied to that chair.
His face was swollen.
Blood had dried near his mouth, and his shirt was stained from the beating he had already taken.
Two n stood near him.
One of them grabbed Rovan’s hair and forced his head up.
"What do you know about the underworld group?" the man asked.
Rovan breathed hard.
"I don’t know," he said.
The man slapped him.
Rovan’s head turned to the side.
"What do you know about the man who started all this?" the man asked again.
Rovan’s voice shook.
"I told you. I don’t know him."
Another hit landed.
Rovan cried out.
"He only sent instructions," Rovan said quickly. "Only ssages. I never t him, and I don’t know his face."
The man hit him again.
Rovan almost fell with the chair, but the ropes held him in place.
He had already said the sa thing many tis. Each beating only made his answer sound weaker, but it did not give him anything new to say.
"Then how did he contact you?" the man asked.
"Email," Rovan said. "Sotis ssages. Nothing else."
"Na?"
"No na," Rovan said. "I swear. I don’t know."
His voice cracked at the end.
He was no longer trying to act like a police officer. He was only trying to stay alive.
George stood a little away from them, holding himself still.
He had already sent enough emails.
Still, there was no reply.
At first, he thought the person behind Rovan might be thinking.
Then he thought maybe the person was trying to trace him.
But as more ti passed, the truth beca clearer.
No one was coming, and no one cared enough to answer.
George looked at Rovan.
The police officer was shaking in the chair.
George’s lips twisted.
"He abandoned you," George said.
Rovan’s eyes widened.
For a mont, he looked like he wanted to deny it.
But even he understood the silence.
Rovan looked at him with swollen eyes.
"Please..." Rovan whispered. "I told you everything."
George did not answer him.
He understood one thing now.
The person behind all this would not co out easily.
The old George would have moved with more control. He would have tested the hostage slowly.
But too much had happened.
He had been attacked. His influence had been pushed. His na had been dragged into things he did not control.
And now even this hostage had beco useless.
That last part angered him the most.
He had thought Rovan would be a rope he could pull.
Instead, the rope had already been cut from the other side.
George suddenly kicked the chair beside him.
The chair hit the wall and fell.
"Kill him," George shouted.
The n in the room froze for a second.
Rovan heard it, and his whole body shook.
"No!" Rovan shouted. "Please let go! I don’t know anything!"
George turned away.
"I said kill him."
The n looked at each other.
Then one of them moved behind Rovan.
Rovan kept struggling against the ropes.
"Please! I can still help!"
No one listened.
George did not look back.
Rovan’s voice broke inside the hidden room.
Then it stopped.
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