Back in the penthouse, the women stood in silence for a moment after he left. Then Alera exhaled softly. “Well,” she said, stretching slightly. “That escalated quickly.” Berkeley didn’t smile. "This is just the beginning.” Iren looked between them, her heart racing. "What exactly did I sign up for?” she whispered. Elyndra glanced at her, eyes glinting. “You?” A faint smile danced around her lips. “You just walked into power.” And far across the city, in a dimly lit office high above the streets. A man set Draven’s file down slowly. “So,” he murmured. “This is the one causing all the noise.” Behind him, the Harlands insignia gleamed coldly. “Let’s see how long he lasts.” The city did not sleep. Draven’s Jeep cut through the night. The traffic reduced the further he moved from the commercial districts into the shadowed roads and old abandoned buildings.The handler of Marcus’s phone had sent him a location in a way that seemed plain yet coordinated. That alone told him everything

In a week's time all preparations had been made. The event center had been bought and transformed into a magnificent hall. The lighting, tables, decor, everything is set. Name tags of guests were carefully curated and arranged on their respective tables. A soft old country song played in the background. A live band and DJ by the side. Each table was like a luxurious dining room of its own with different aesthetics and arrangements.All the teams assigned to make the night a memorable one gathered around the back of the stage waiting. Berkeley walked into the room in a green, blinging ball gown, strapless with a slit that stopped mid-thigh, heels clanging elegantly on the tiles, and hair gently curled into a bounce; her made-up face glowed under the dim light. “Can I have your attention, all of you.” The ladies in uniform gathered around her, hair packed in a neat bun, with a black work gown and a hostess cap on their heads.She began, her lips curved upward. “Good. Thank you a

A thunderous round of applause filled the room as Draven got to the stage, then it slowly died. The MC handed the mic to him and left the stage. The entire room fell into silence; the atmosphere changed, slightly tensed at the recognition of a power that was too great to ignore. You could hear a pin drop. Draven took a step down from the stage, taking his time to read the room. Their attention was fully focused on him. Good. He began, “A chance to build something big, what a concept.” The guests nodded their heads, eyes following his movements. “You may be wondering, what is this man all about? Why the need to build? I mean, anyone can wake up one morning and start having delusions about building something; it's allowed, right?” The laughter of the crowd filled the air, but it subsided just as quickly. "You know,” he continued, raising a globe map in his hand slightly, “people love to romanticize success. They see the cars, the watches, the headlines, and the luxury buildings, an

She cleared her throat, breaking the staring contest. “And who might you be, young lady?” Draven replied, swallowing the smirk that ceased to creep onto his face. “Vivian,” she muttered, boring her eyes into his, then slowly to his lips, sending nonverbal cues with them. She was undoubtedly gorgeous, not just because of the tenderness of her porcelain skin that stood out like she hadn't for once stepped foot under the sun. It wasn't because of her tight nipples that stared right back at him without shame beneath the fabric, nor was it the curve of her hips in the dress that accentuated her figure-eight shape. It definitely wasn't because of the defiance that danced within her eyes. “Too bad you are my enemy.” He mumbled inwardly, taking in her entire appearance. “Hmm, very well, Miss Vivian, may I have this dance?” He stepped forward, turning her around to press her back against him. He will enjoy the night for now and see her tactics. His long hands grabbed her tiny waist

Marcus and I went out shortly after waiting for Alera to be done. After an hour she was done, and she came to the living room. “Here are her details.” She played the iPad before us and began. “Silver Stone. 24 years old. Half-African, half-Latina. An immigrant. Parents died in a car crash at fifteen. Adopted by a mafia lord in Creastfall. Trained in all sorts of underground martial arts and social skills to fit into any setting, skilled and experienced enough to be a level 6 assassin agent. Known as Stone Cold in the underground world. No love interest or sentimental relationships.” “Good. Let's hear the rest from her. I need to check something.” I said, grabbing the iPad and beckoning to them, "Let's go.”We all went back to the room. Her eyes were opened, hair disheveled, and lips bruised with dried blood on them. She stared right back at me. “Welcome to the world of the living, Sunshine.” I began, sitting halfway on the table; some could see her face clearly. She scoffed, shi