SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 308: Silent Pieces

Forty-eight hours.

That’s what Hyena had given me.

It wasn’t enough.

I let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to the cracked window, the dead street beyond it, and then to the board on the wall, strings like veins stretched over the photographs of families who didn’t know they were still alive.

Strategist (Lv. 5) - Activated.

It was like a door opening in my mind.

Every piece of information I had about Hyena slid into place—his movements, patterns, weaknesses, the way he talked, the slight hesitation when he mentioned the families, the way he didn’t bother hiding his goals because he thought no one could touch him.

The demands echoed in my head:

- Removal of sector borders.

- Ten million dollars.

- Police archive access.

- Mary Steward.

The last was off the table. But the first three? Grant was right; they were impossible.

But impossible didn’t mean unworkable.

The money wasn’t the problem; we could get that, move it into an offshore account, tracked or untracked, and it wouldn’t matter. The city hemorrhaged funds on a good day, and we could siphon ten million through the right shell.

The borders and files were the real problem.

Tearing down the sectors would let Hyena disappear into the masses forever. Giving him access to the archives would let him erase everything, not just his record, but any hope of finding him again.

I couldn’t give him that.

But I needed the families alive.

The band snapped against my wrist again as I turned to Grant, who was pacing, rubbing his jaw.

"Grant."

He stopped, looking at me, waiting.

"We’re splitting up," I said. "You and the patrolmen will go to every precinct from Sector 45 to 50. Quietly. Face-to-face. No calls, no texts, no files. Verbally. Inform the captains of Hyena’s demands, and tell them we are under no circumstances to leak this to higher-ups or the media."

He swallowed, blinking. "You think they’ll listen?"

"They will if they want those kids alive."

He hesitated, but then nodded. "What about the money?"

"We’re not giving him ten million upfront," I said. "We’ll send him two million first. We demand proof of life before the rest."

"Stall him."

"Buy us time."

Grant’s eyes hardened, his shoulders setting in that quiet, tired way they did when he accepted something that would gnaw at him for weeks. "Got it."

"Move."

He turned, waving the two patrolmen, who were waiting by the doorway, and they left without another word, boots crunching over glass and old nails.

The building settled into silence again.

I stood there, breathing, letting my mind stretch over the city.

Hyena was watching. Always.

I walked to the phone Hyena had used, picking it up carefully and sliding it into a Faraday pouch I pulled from my coat pocket, blocking signals. Just in case. It was crazy just how much Camille had planned in this outfit. Though, it was a long shot, but if there was even a chance he was monitoring the microphone, I wouldn’t take it.

Then I pulled out my burner.

Anthony had given it to me when we first met. He said even the government couldn’t track it, not unless they physically took it from me.

Anthony. freewebnσvel.cøm

I hesitated for a moment, letting the silence breathe, letting the tension in my shoulders remind me that I couldn’t afford fear.

I dialed.

The ring was soft, tinny, like it was coming from another world.

Then, it clicked.

"Boss!" Anthony’s voice chirped, bright and fast, the sound of fingers typing in the background. "What’s up? Or should I say, who’s down?"

"Anthony," I said, my voice flat, calm, cutting through his chaos, "I need you to listen carefully."

The typing stopped immediately.

There was a moment of silence. "Shutting up. Listening. What’s wrong?"

"It’s an emergency." My thumb tapped against the band on my wrist, once, twice, grounding me. "It’s him. The one who hacked the apartment camera. The one who I predicted was a hacker."

Another pause, and I heard a quiet, humorless whistle. "I’m assuming you’re having problems with him?"

"Yeah."

I laid it out, piece by piece, the words controlled but fast enough to match the urgency pressing against the inside of my skull.

The demands.

The pictures.

The forty-eight-hour window.

His claim that he could see and hear everything.

The risk of them all dying if we slipped even once.

Anthony didn’t interrupt. I could almost see him on the other end, the usual grin wiped from his face, leaning forward in a dark room filled with monitors, cables snaking like vines around him.

When I finished, the silence returned.

Finally, he spoke, and his voice was different. Serious, level, like steel beneath silk.

"All right. You’re saying we have forty-eight hours, and we can’t let him know we’re working around him."

"Exactly."

"And you want me to do what I do best."

"Yes."

Another pause. "Boss, do you know what you’re asking?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said quietly, and I heard the click of a mechanical keyboard. "Then let’s not waste any more time."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

"Show me why you’re one of the government’s best spies, Anthony." I said.

A chuckle, this time humorless but real. "Damn right."

A few rapid clicks, and then his voice sharpened again. "First, I need you to confirm: no digital lines from your end except this phone. No updates, no logs, nothing."

"Done."

"Second, I’ll start crawling through the dead channels and darknets, looking for any signal footprints he leaves. If he’s moving hostages, using cams, or piggybacking on public feeds, I’ll find them."

"Good."

"Third, you need to stay in either sector 45 or 47. If he’s monitoring you, we use that. If he thinks you’re only going between those 2 sectors, it’ll give me more room to maneuver."

I glanced around the building, the shattered glass, the cold rot in the air, the board on the wall.

"Fine."

"Fourth," he said, his voice dropping lower, "when I get proof of life, I’ll send it to you physically, not digitally. Trust me."

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. "Anthony."

"Yeah?"

"Can you do this in forty-eight hours?"

There was a pause, then a laugh that was all confidence, tinged with that wild edge Anthony always carried like a badge.

"Boss, I can do it in twenty-four."

"Don’t get cocky."

"Too late," he shot back, but then his tone settled again. "You did good calling me."

"You’re the only one who can handle this."

"Obviously."

We were quiet for a moment, letting the weight of what was ahead settle between us.

Then Anthony spoke, his voice calm, unwavering.

"Boss, you’ll have what you need in forty-eight hours. And if this Hyena tries to pull the plug..." His voice darkened. "He’ll find out what it’s like to be hunted by something worse."

A flicker of a grim smile touched my lips. "Don’t get yourself killed."

"Hey, I’m too pretty to die," he quipped, and the line clicked off.

The silence returned.

I stood there, the band on my wrist snapping softly, the cold air pressing against my skin, the city outside holding its breath.

I let my mind run the scenarios:

Anthony moving in the background, tracing signals, pulling data from dead channels.

Me, here, as bait, playing the helpless detective under Hyena’s eye while the real hunt happened in the shadows.

The precincts informed, but quietly, ready to mobilize without drawing Hyena’s suspicion.

The first payment stalled, demanding proof of life, buying time, pulling Hyena’s attention just long enough for Anthony to strike.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t guaranteed.

But it was a plan.

And for now, that was enough.

I moved to the broken window, looking out into the dark, the city lights flickering like distant stars, the cold breeze cutting through the staleness of the building.

Forty-eight hours.

Outside, the city waited, unaware that monsters were watching from the dark, and that I was about to drag them into the light.

And I would.

Or I would die trying.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by f(r)eew𝒆bn(o)vel.com