When Clara arrived at Gerald's office, the tension hit her immediately. Something about the atmosphere felt... off. The usually crisp air of the study now seemed heavy, as if thickened by some unseen presence. The warm glow of the hovering holographic displays on the walls did little to alleviate the oppressive feeling that settled in her gut. She glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source of her unease, but found nothing visibly out of place.

Gerald sat behind his desk, his eyes calmly observing her as she entered. He didn't need to say a word—his mere presence carried enough authority to fill the room with an almost tangible pressure. The air felt thicker near him, the weight of unspoken secrets resting heavily between them.

Clara took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Gerald," she said, her voice steady despite the apprehension coiling in her chest. "But I need your help with something."

Clara stood in the center of Gerald's office, her gaze steady but wary, sensing a shift in the air. The faint hum of the holographic screens surrounding Gerald's desk filled the room, casting soft blue light on his face as he read over data.

Gerald's military past made him perceptive, even in retirement. His hands clenched the edge of the desk as he listened to Clara. The object she presented hovered in the air, suspended by one of the holographic projectors, rotating slowly. Its presence seemed out of place, like it didn't belong in their hands.

"You're certain this was left on-site?" Gerald's voice was calm, but the edge in it betrayed his growing anger.

Clara nodded. "Jacob discovered it. He said it wasn't part of the initial sweep. With Kadmon agents around, and drones patrolling the area, it shouldn't have been possible for anyone to slip through unnoticed. Unless…"

"Unless they had inside help," Gerald finished for her, his eyes darkening. "Or Kadmon's security has grown lax."

The tension between them thickened as the reality of the situation sank in. This wasn't just a breach. It was a threat, not only to Kadmon but also to the people Gerald cared about the most—his family. The possibility that Jacob, his grandson, could have been in danger because of someone's negligence or betrayal stirred a storm in him. He hadn't worn the uniform in years, but the protective instincts of a commander and a grandfather flared up in an instant.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Gerald turned his chair sharply, slamming his fist on the desk, causing the holographic screens to flicker momentarily. "This isn't just some political game, Clara. If someone's infiltrated Kadmon, Jacob could've been the target."

Clara's face softened, knowing how much Jacob meant to Gerald. "I'll make sure nothing happens to him. We're already pulling resources to investigate this fully. But I came here because your people… well, you have connections, even outside of Kadmon. We need an independent sweep."

Gerald took a deep breath, standing up. His tall frame cast a long shadow in the dim room as he walked to the window, staring out into the distance. "My ties to the military are severed, Clara. I'm out. The only reason I still entertain any involvement is because you and Jacob are in Kadmon." His voice was low, but his fury was unmistakable. "But if this threatens him, I'll send every last person I have left to make sure whoever did this regrets it."

He turned to face her again, his expression cold. "You understand what I'm saying?"

Clara nodded, her lips pressed tight. "I do."

Gerald swiped through one of the holographic screens, issuing a rapid series of commands. "I'll send my people. I want every square inch of that site combed, and I want the trail followed. No one gets near Jacob without me knowing."

The weight of his authority still carried, despite his years away from active service. Clara knew better than to question him, especially when it came to family.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Don't thank me yet." Gerald's eyes glinted with something darker. "I'll root out whoever's behind this. And they'll wish they never touched my family."

Gerald stood still by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp as they scanned the horizon beyond. The tension in the room hadn't lessened—it thickened, simmering beneath the surface. His mind was already at work, calculating the next move, knowing full well that subtlety wasn't enough this time.

He turned back to Clara, his voice cold and steady. "I'm done playing soft."

Clara watched as Gerald moved toward a smaller, nearly hidden console in the far corner of his office. The interface lit up under his touch, holographic commands floating midair as his fingers danced through them. This wasn't the typical network of agents most people knew about. No, these were his private eyes, his "hunting dogs"—those who operated in shadows, whose names were whispered but rarely seen. These were people not even Kadmon could track.

As the holographic screen shifted, a set of names appeared, none recognizable to the average person, but Clara knew what they represented—utter danger. The hunting dogs were a handpicked group of individuals, each one a ghost in their own right. Masters of infiltration, exfiltration, and worse. Their methods were whispered in darkened rooms, stories of their efficiency enough to send shivers down even the most seasoned of spies.

Gerald tapped the first name on the list, his expression never changing. "Send a message to Stray. I want him tracking this object down to the manufacturer, and then beyond. Whatever stone this came from, I want it overturned."

The system responded with a soft beep, and the message was sent.

"Stray?" Clara murmured. "Isn't he the one who—"

"Yes," Gerald cut her off, his eyes darkening. "He's the one who took out a whole syndicate in Eurydon without ever being seen. If there's a whisper of this thing's origin, he'll hear it."

Clara swallowed. Stray wasn't just a ghost—he was a storm waiting to happen. His methods were rumored to be so clean, so silent, that even the dead weren't sure how they died.

"Who else?" Clara asked, now more tense than before.