The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 1012

Thinking of how they’d been strung along and played by this phantom operative, Callahan mentally tallied every offense. When the time came, he would return the favor tenfold.

The captain lowered his voice to ensure only those closest could hear. "He didn’t seem to be a local from Northern Myanor. After the factory blew, his aircraft circled the airspace before heading straight back to our home country. We didn’t pursue to avoid tipping him off."

Callahan met Leilani’s eyes. In that single, loaded glance, they understood exactly what they were dealing with.

This ghost knew their every move and operated on their home turf. The conspiracy ran deeper and wider than they had ever imagined.

Leilani took a quiet breath, stepping closer. Without a word, she slid her hand into his uninjured one, giving his fingers a firm, reassuring squeeze.

Callahan squeezed back. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, they stared out toward the horizon.

"I don’t care who he is," Callahan vowed, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I will tear the earth apart to find him. And he will pay."

To draw the mastermind out of hiding, Callahan decided to play dead. He let the domestic media break the news of his tragic demise in the explosion. The bait worked beautifully.

But what Callahan hadn't anticipated was the sheer, cold-blooded cruelty of his own flesh and blood. Talbot hadn't just moved to seize the company—he had actively endangered Dante’s life to do it.

Had Callahan known his grandfather would be caught in the crossfire, he never would have played such a risky game.

The thought alone made his blood run cold. Back at the Langley estate, the confrontation had finally begun.

Talbot was pinned violently against the wall by two massive bodyguards, his arms wrenched painfully behind his back. His cheek was squashed against the plaster, draining all the color from his face as he trembled uncontrollably.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Uncle Talbot. But hell spat us back out."

"No! Impossible!"

Reese's shrill scream echoed through the room. She was collapsed on the floor, her normally immaculate hair plastered to her sweaty forehead. Her usual aristocratic grace was entirely gone, replaced by hysterical panic.

"The explosion leveled the entire district! We saw the news! You couldn't have survived! You're ghosts!" She scrambled backward, shrieking at the bodyguards. "Arrest them! Grab them! They're imposters trying to ruin our family!"

Deep down, she and Talbot knew Callahan was very much alive. But in that moment of sheer horror, they desperately wished he were a ghost—a ghost was easier to fight than the wrath of Callahan Langley in the flesh.