“Pierce, what the hell did you and your family build here?” he silently muttered under his breath. A mix of dread and curiosity throbbed in his soul as he adjusted his flashlight and began his descent. The further he went, the colder it became. The walls, roughly carved from rock, seemed to close in on him. Water dripped rhythmically from somewhere above, each drop magnified in the oppressive silence. Halfway down, a rusted pipe ran along the wall, leaking tiny streams that pooled around the lower steps. A faint electrical hum vibrated through the air, hinting that something—or someone—had been there recently. Aaron paused, wiping his palm across the wet railing, and continued cautiously. When he finally reached the bottom, the staircase opened into a large underground chamber dimly lit by a flickering bulb. This place looked nothing like a simple escape route to him; instead, he concluded in his mind that it was more akin to a hidden military vault. Rows of steel crates li

It was a busy day at the Kluivert Fancy Mall in Colombus City. An aged woman, about forty-five years old, moved quietly through the mall. Her name was Laurient Uzcategui, and she was accompanied by her trusted bodyguard, Aggrevo. Under a clever disguise, Laurient had sneaked back into Colombus City to inspect the progress on the preparations for her long-awaited return. Earlier that day, she had visited the new estate she was building—one designed to house her family when she finally revealed to the world that she was alive. For the past nine years, she had lived in secrecy, far away from Colombus, but the time to reclaim her life was drawing near. As she strolled through the mall, Laurient couldn’t resist the urge to indulge in a little shopping. She missed the luxury of Colombus’s high-quality deodorants and colognes, so she decided to pick up a few bottles before returning to the city where she had been hiding for nearly a decade. “Aggrevo,” she began, handing her bodyguard

It was the next morning at the Aviatux plush estate. It seemed like a normal day—one might expect things to feel different due to Damien Aviatux’s absence, but it was just like any other Monday. With Skarr as the head of all staff departments in the estate, every member of the staff—including the guards, chefs, and sanitary workers—dared not waste time in carrying out their duties professionally. After thoroughly inspecting everything that morning to ensure everything was in place for his new boss, the acting CEO Eddie Aviatux, to begin his day meaningfully and enjoyably, Skarr headed to his room. "Click." Skarr pressed the bell in front of Eddie’s room, and Eddie responded from inside. "Chill, Skarr. I know the perfect time to leave for school," Eddie groaned as he opened the door and stepped out. "I’m sorry for being too forward, Master," Skarr said, bowing before respectfully gesturing toward the hallway. Eddie took the lead, and Skarr followed behind him. "Everything is all

“You’re speaking to the President of the republic,” the voice snapped, trembling with rage. “The father of the man you murdered.”Logan kept the phone close to his ear, his eyes narrowed as the weight of the voice on the other end sank in.“President Luther?” he repeated, confused. “Why the hell are you calling me? I didn’t kill your son.”There was silence for about a minute. Then the voice returned, laced with more anger.“You’re not even worth interrupting my sleep for, Logan. But I’m making an exception.” the president paused for a second before continuing. “You’ll show up tomorrow at Lutheriux Lounge. Don’t be late.”Logan blinked. “Lutheriux Lounge? Where’s that?”A bitter chuckle came through the line. “You really are just a novice, aren’t you? A special assassin breed… you even sound like a teenager! You better not be.”Logan frowned. “What the stink is that supposed to mean, Mr. President sir?”“How can a full-time killer not know the biggest name lounge in all of Brixton me

Elijah leaned lazily against the polished mahogany counter, phone in hand as his thumbs glided across the glowing screen. The salesgirl’s cheap vanilla perfume tried to mask the exhaustion that clung faintly to the air while his detached reflection shimmered in the glass countertop. The double glass doors separating the waiting room and the main boutique parted, and Bartholomew strode in with measured confidence. Behind him, two guards pushed chrome trolleys piled high with garment bags and boxes, the branded luxury logos shouting money. "My lord," Bartholomew’s proud tone carried caution as he halted a few feet away. "Do you love these… or should we pick other ones?" Elijah slid his phone into his inner pocket and turned, his icing gaze flying to the trolleys. "Hmmm. I can’t come all the way from San Dicevey to the capital just for scraps. The most important thing is Naomi. Did you get a gown? Exactly her size and beautiful enough for her that she will love?" Bartholomew’s lips