WRITING MY OWN THRILLER, POST 35

The latest installment of my featured novel “Relentless” is here!

I am excited to release this novel in small parts, pulling readers into the captivating chaos of the story! Years ago, I was amazed by Stephen King’s bold storytelling in “The Green Mile,” where he shared each part like a thrilling tease over time, and now I want to continue that exciting tradition with Moteventure!

WHAT IS “RELENTLESS” ABOUT?

“Relentless” propels readers through the thrilling journey of Abi Spencer and her fiercely loyal friend Winn Starr as they confront a perilous world rife with hidden agendas and unyielding foes. Maxwell Thrasher, with his insidious technological implant threatening humanity’s very existence, is recklessly advancing the untested device, fully aware of its malevolent intent and catastrophic potential. With unwavering resolve, Abi and Winn team up with Dr. Caroline Kramer and Coop Kennedy, racing against time to devise bold strategies that will thwart Thrasher’s sinister plans, plunging them into a complex web of intrigue, betrayal, and an inspiring battle for survival against staggering odds.

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WHAT WAS HAPPENING PREVIOUSLY IN THE NOVEL?

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RELENTLESS – D.S. FACTOR

Chapter Nineteen

The tunnels felt like they were closing in, stale air thick with the scent of rust and damp concrete. Eli led the team forward, his mind a battlefield of strategies, each one shifting as new obstacles emerged. Time was slipping away.

“Two minutes, maybe less, before they recalibrate their systems,” Caroline murmured, jogging beside him.

“Then we don’t waste a second,” Eli replied.

They reached the junction leading to Sublevel C—a narrow corridor lined with exposed pipes and dim emergency lighting. The security room lay ahead, behind a reinforced steel door. Coop was already scanning the panel beside it, his fingers working at breakneck speed.

Brad took position beside Eli, gun raised, eyes sharp. “No hostiles yet, but it won’t last.”

“Noted,” Eli said. “Coop?”

“Give me fifteen seconds,” Coop muttered.

“Give me ten,” Eli countered.

Footsteps echoed behind them—distant but closing fast. Caroline turned, her eyes narrowing. “They know we’re here.”

Brad braced himself, rolling his shoulders. “Let them come.”

The lock clicked. “We’re in,” Coop whispered, shoving the door open.

The team rushed inside, the small security room barely large enough to contain them. A wall of monitors displayed feeds from around the venue—some cycling through empty halls, others showing armed guards sweeping the upper levels. A central terminal flickered with lines of code as Coop dropped his pack and got to work.

“I can override the firewall and push the footage through their own internal network,” Coop explained, fingers flying across the keyboard. “It’ll ping every screen, every device logged in.”

“Make it happen,” Eli said, scanning the monitors.

Caroline hovered over Coop’s shoulder. “They’re moving toward us—six guards minimum.”

Brad checked his weapon. “We hold them off.”

Eli nodded. “Caroline, prep an exit route. Brad, stay on defense. Coop, push it live. I’ll handle comms.”

The team fell into motion.

Brad took cover near the door, his stance solid. Eli activated his earpiece, voice low and sure. “Thrasher’s losing his grip. Let’s tighten the noose.”

Coop’s fingers danced across the controls. Lines of code blurred, then snapped into place. “Feed is uploading.”

Alarms blared.

“They’re jamming our signal,” Caroline warned.

“Not for long,” Coop retorted, injecting a bypass.

The screens flickered. Then, the footage played—grainy but undeniable. Thrasher, hunched over a console, manipulating evidence, fabricating reports. His voice crackled through the speakers, caught in the act.

Eli exhaled. “We just changed the game.”

The pounding of boots outside grew deafening.

Brad met Eli’s gaze. “What’s the play?”

Eli’s lips curved into a smirk. “We improvise.”

Chapter Twenty

The city hummed beneath her, Paris stretching out in golden hues, shimmering against the waning light. The world moved as it always did—cars weaving, voices rising in effortless conversations below—unaware of the fracture about to split its surface.

Canadian Prime Minister Olivia Johnson breathed in, steady. The air felt different—thicker, heavier—though she couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined. The implant had felt odd, a whisper of something threading through her thoughts, a pulse against her skin she couldn’t quite name.

She had excused herself from the Global Economic Forum with practiced grace, brushing off concerned glances with a polite smile, a quiet nod. The weight in her limbs wasn’t fatigue—it was something deeper. Something final.

She reached the hotel’s roof access, palms pressing against the cool steel of the door before slipping inside. A sparse stairwell led upward, the sound of her footsteps swallowed by the thick silence. Somewhere below, her aides were likely checking their watches, expecting her return, their lives still tethered to schedules and protocols. She had followed those same rhythms for years. Now, she was stepping outside of them.

The rooftop stretched out before her—open, vast, beneath the endless expanse of sky. The helicopter pilot wasn’t here. No one was.

She moved forward.

The ledge rose before her, a thin line separating the tangible from the infinite. The wind curled around her, lifting strands of her hair, whispering through her coat.

She paused.

For a moment, she thought she might feel fear. A flicker of hesitation. A final, desperate instinct clawing her back from the edge.

But there was nothing.

She stepped forward.

The impact was instant. Sound swallowed the moment—a muffled, visceral thud against stone.

The world did not react immediately. A few pedestrians near the entrance froze, their minds unable to register what had just happened, their faces twisting between confusion and horror.

Then came the screams.

A ripple of panic, spreading outward like a shockwave. Phones lifted, voices cracked, bodies surged forward in morbid disbelief.

Several stories above, the forum remained unaware for the briefest of moments—until the message flashed across security feeds, and the guards moved.

Chaos would follow. Questions. Investigations. The world would demand answers.

But Olivia Johnson was beyond them now.

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