Just My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires by Esther Pen novel Chapter 307

DOMINIC’S POV NIC’S

།

The multi–monitor display in the sub–basement security hub of the Sterling estate hummed softly, casting a cool, rhythmic blue glow across the heavy steel desk.

I sat back in the leather chair, slowly swirling a glass of cold whiskey while keeping my eyes glued to the grid of live feels.

Exterior perimeter sensors showed completely clear zones, Thermal cameras confirmed zero human presence in the dense surrounding treeline. On the upper floor monitors, the quiet master suite remained entirely still.

The estate was at peace. The boss and Miss Aria were finally safe, the Vance family had been stripped to absolute zero, and the legal battles were fully wrapped up.

Yet, something felt entirely wrong.

A sharp, encrypted chime rang out from my secondary terminal. A crimson warning box began to blink rapidly on the rightmost monitor, an automated alert from a hidden scraping protocol I had set up seven years ago to track specific darknet channels across the Eastern European and Mediterranean sectors.

My eyes narrowed as I set my glass down, pulling the key pad forward and typing in an upper–tier clearance code.

The screen deciphered an encoded packet of radio chatter and underground broker ledgers intercepted from an old syndicate node in Bucharest.

The message was brief, coded in an archaic dialect used exclusively by the top lieutenants of the former Phantom syndicate.

I translated the text string by string:

THE DON HAS LAID DOWN HIS CROWN FOR A WHITE FENCE. THE DEAD MAN WATCHES FROM THE SHADOWS. THE DEBT IS DUE.

Cold air seemed to seep straight into the room. I leaned closer to the monitor, running the IP trail through three foreign proxies.

The source of the transmission had not originated from overseas. It had bounced off a local cellular tower five miles south of our current location, right here in the heart of the city.

“Dominic.”

I turned my head quickly. Marcus stood in the doorway of the monitoring room, leaning his shoulder against the steel frame, an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear.

“You have been down here for three hours,” Marcus said, his voice flat, “The boss just woke up. He wants the morning report before he takes Miss Aria and Amelia out to the estate gardens.”

“Cancel the garden walk,” I said, my voice tight and completely devoid of humor.

Marcus straightened up instantly, his relaxed posture vanishing as he stepped fully into the room. “What did you find? Is Julian trying something stupid with another low–tier crew?”

“This isn’t Julian,” I said, tapping the key to cast the translated message onto the primary wall screen. “Julian Vance is a broken silver–spoon brat hiding in a hole. This is syndicate military chatter. Look at the routing tag.”

Marcus stared at the glowing red text on the wall. His brow furrowed as he read the archaic phrase, his breath catching slightly when his eyes landed on the phrase “THE DEAD MAN WATCHES.

כו

Tue, Sep

My Rockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires

“That’s Phantom Don protocol, Marcus whispered, looking over at me. “Only seven people in the entire world knew that specific tactical phrase. And six of them are buried six feet under in the trenches outside Sarajevo.”

“Expetly.” I said, pulling up a legacy archive file dated six years ago. “Which leaves only one possible ghost”

Marcus’s face went completely pale. “Gabriel. But that’s impossible. The boss confirmed his death himself. Gabriel took three rifle rounds to the chest during the mountain ambush when the retreat order was called. We left the entire valley under heavy mortar fire.”

“We left the body behind because the extraction chopper had to lift off,” I corrected, pulling up a secondary encrypted le. darknet weapons manifest registered in the city three days ago.

“Someone matching Gabriel’s exact height, gait, and tactical profile just purchased four military–grade sniper units and an industrial–grade frequency jammer from a local arms dealer.”

Marcus swore under his breath, taking a step back toward the door. “Does the boss know?”

“Not yet,” I said, standing up from my chair and grabbing my encrypted tablet. “I wanted to verify the digital fingerprint before I dragged the boss back into the bloody nightmare he spent years trying to escape. But this chatter confirms it. Gabriel isn’t just alive. He is in the city, and he is hunting.”

We left the basement, taking the private elevator up to the ground–floor study.

The contrast between the dark monitoring room and the bright, warm study was sharp. Sunlight poured through the tall glass windows.

The boss was standing behind his heavy mahogany desk, looking down at a stack of architectural blueprints for Miss Aria’s new studio floor, a relaxed, contented smile resting on his lips. He looked like a man who had finally put the violence of his past behind him.

He looked up as Marcus and I closed the double doors behind us, locking them from the inside.

The boss’s smile faded instantly the moment he saw our expressions. The atmosphere in the room shifted from light warmth to tense, suffocating ice.

“What happened?” the boss asked, his deep voice dropping into that quiet, lethal tone he had not used in weeks. “Did the police find Julian?”

“No,” I said, stepping forward and setting the silver tablet down on his desk directly over the blueprints. “We didn’t find Julian. But we found something far worse.”

The boss looked down at the tablet screen.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify