Chapter 252 So much mistakes

Chapter 252: Chapter 252 So much mistakes

_Rowena’s POV_

The surveillance van was parked two streets away from the market, but the tension inside my car was high.

I sat in the back seat with Alaric, my laptop open on my knees, watching the static filled camera feeds through Kasper’s shared network. Right outside our tinted windows, the two street thugs I had hired were sitting in another black car I had provided for them, eagerly waiting for my signal.

Suddenly, my earpiece came to life with Ezekiel’s loud, animated voice.

"Rowena!" Ezekiel called out over the comms, his tone filled with excitement. "Camera two just picked up a black figure near stall forty two. Black hoodie, dark cap, keeping his head down. He’s heading straight for the vendor."

My heart gave a sudden, hard thud against my ribs. Beside me, Alaric went instantly rigid, his eyes flashing with light as he leaned closer to my screen.

"Is it Kyle?" I asked into my microphone, keeping my voice cool and steady.

"We can’t see his face yet, he’s keeping his chin tucked in," Kasper’s flat voice chimed in from the surveillance van. "But the build and height match his profile. He’s standing right in front of the stall."

I didn’t hesitate. I tapped my burner phone screen, connecting straight to the two thugs sitting in the car ahead of us.

"Move in now," I commanded. "Block the aisle, grab the guy in the black hoodie, and don’t let him run."

"On it, Boss!" the taller thug yelled through the speaker.

Through the camera feed, I watched as the two thugs burst out of their car and sprinted down the market lane like two loose pit bulls. They shoved past startled shoppers, cut off the exit path, and tackled the figure in the black hoodie straight into a stack of crates.

"We got him! We got him!" the shorter thug roared into his comms, pinning the suspect’s arms behind his back.

"Grab the car, Alaric," I said, shutting my laptop screen with a snap. "Let’s go."

Alaric slammed the gas pedal down, and our car surged forward, pulling right up to the end of the market square within thirty seconds. We stepped out into the chaotic afternoon heat, with Ezekiel, Pierre, and Kasper rushing over from their surveillance van at the exact same time.

A small crowd of local shoppers had gathered in a circle, whispering frantically as my two thugs held the pinned man against the counter of stall forty two.

"Bring his face up," Alaric ordered, his deep, commanding voice instantly cutting through the noise of the crowd.

The taller thug grabbed a handful of the suspect’s black hood, yanking it back roughly to expose his face to the sunlight.

My breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Kyle.

Standing there, pale, panting, and terrified out of his mind, was a scrawny nineteen year old market boy with a mouthful of silver braces and sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the kid shrieked, his voice growing loud as he looked at Alaric’s terrifying, uniformed figure. "Don’t hurt me! I didn’t do anything! I was just coming to pick up my boss’s lunch order!"

"What?" Ezekiel blinked in total shock, stepping forward and staring at the boy’s face. "Where’s the doctor?! Kasper, you said the build matched!"

"The height profile was identical from the overhead camera angle," Kasper muttered, looking down at his tablet screen with a rare look of frustration on his face.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking a slow, deep breath to steady my rising frustration. Something wasn’t right. I turned around and walked straight past the trembling kid, stepping up to the counter of stall forty-two.

Sitting behind a messy table covered in dried roots and bottled herbal oils was an old, stubby vendor with a gray beard and a faded apron. He was casually smoking a thin pipe, watching us with lazy, unimpressed eyes.

"Are you the owner of this stall?" I asked, my voice dropping into a firm, unyielding tone as I leaned against his counter.

"I am," the old man grunted, blowing a thin plume of smoke into the air. "And you lot are scaring away my paying customers with all this loud shouting."

"We need to see your private sales transaction ledger," Alaric demanded, stepping up beside me. "Right now."

The old man scoffed, reaching under his table without a hint of fear. He pulled out a dusty, notebook and slammed it down on the counter right in front of us.

"Take it," the vendor grumbled, waving his pipe at the book. "Read every line if it makes you sleep better at night. I run an honest business here."

I flipped open the cover. My fingers quickly scanned through the hand written pages, going through months of customer names, dates, and purchase totals. Ezekiel and Pierre leaned over my shoulders, watching the lines with hawk like focus.

Halfway down the page for last week’s entries, my finger stopped dead in its tracks.

There it was, written in clear, neat ink: Dr. Kyle.

"Look," Ezekiel whispered, pointing his finger at the entry. "He was here!"

I read the transaction line out loud. "Dr. Kyle... purchased three boxes of organic chamomile tea bags and two bottles of mild lavender massage oil. Total: forty dollars.”

I flipped through the rest of the book, scanning every single page all the way to the end. There was zero record of any illegal chemical, no black market compounds, no hidden transactions, and no suspicious bulk payments. Everything he had ever bought from this stall was completely ordinary, cheap, and totally harmless.

"Looking for something illegal, are you?" the old vendor barked out with a sarcastic laugh.

He leaned across the counter, shaking his head at us with a look of pure contempt.

"You people ought to be ashamed of yourselves," the old man yelled sarcastically, his loud voice echoing so everyone could hear. "Dr. Kyle is the kindest man in this entire territory! He comes down here every month out of the goodness of his heart, buys tea for his elderly hospital patients out of his own pocket, and never asks for a single penny back! The man wouldn’t even hurt a fly!"

A quiet, awkward silence fell over our entire group.

The crowd of local shoppers muttered under their breath, throwing dirty, judging looks at us. The two thugs I had hired slowly let go of the scrawny market boy, stepping back with awkward, confused looks on their faces.

Ezekiel scratched the back of his neck, looking between the ledger and my completely blank face. "Uh... Rowena? Is it possible... did we completely mess this up?"

Alaric stood beside me, his jaw clenched tight, his eyebrows pulled down in deep confusion as he stared at the ledger page.

I closed the notebook slowly, my mind spinning into a chaotic mess of doubts and unanswered questions.

The background checks had come back completely spotless. The central hospital mainframe showed no digital tampering. And now, the physical ledger in the lower market showed nothing more than chamomile tea and lavender oil.

I looked at Alaric, then at Ezekiel, my throat feeling dry.

Was Kyle really innocent all along? Had I been so blinded by my desire to prove Alaric’s innocence that I made up a villain out of a good person?