2025-08-06 22:38:05Chapter 2: The Shadow of Voss
The sound of glass shattering was drowned by the thunderous snap of the bullet.
Damian didn’t flinch.
He turned slowly, scanning the broken windowpane of his penthouse, the red dot still visible against the jagged edges.
But it wasn’t on him anymore.
Cole Maddox lay on the floor, blood soaking into his shirt, eyes clenched tight.
Damian was at his side in seconds, pressing a cloth against the wound.
“Sniper,” Cole growled through gritted teeth. “Rooftop. Northwest angle.”
“I know,” Damian said coldly.
He didn’t panic. He didn’t call for help.
He stood, walked to the shattered window, and looked out at the city. Somewhere out there, a ghost had pulled a trigger and failed.
“Patch him up,” he ordered into his Bluetooth mic.
A hidden door in the wall slid open. Two men in black moved in—former special forces, handpicked for loyalty. They pulled Cole away into the shadows of the penthouse, moving with trained efficiency.
Damian turned back toward the skyline, the wind tugging at his jacket.
The game had officially begun.
Elsewhere…
The sniper disassembled the rifle with steady hands. He didn’t miss—he was never meant to kill Damian. Just to warn him.
Leave the message: We see you.
He climbed down the fire escape, blended into the crowd, and vanished.
His phone buzzed once.
[Message Received. Payment Processed.]
But before he could take another step, a gloved hand grabbed him from behind and dragged him into a service alley.
A soft voice whispered in his ear: “He doesn’t take kindly to warnings.”
And then the light left his eyes.
The next morning…
Voss International was in chaos.
Panic among shareholders. Furious calls from foreign partners. Headlines everywhere:
THE RETURN OF THE GHOST CEO?
CROSS GLOBAL TAKES CONTROL
INSIDER COLLAPSE AT VOSS INTL
In her glass office, Serena Voss hurled a crystal paperweight against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
“He can’t do this to us!” she shouted.
Victor Voss leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching his niece rage.
“He already has.”
Serena turned. “You told me he was dead.”
“I believed he was,” Victor said calmly. “I saw the blood. The river.”
“Well, it wasn’t enough.”
Victor poured himself a drink. “He’s not the boy you remember. That boy is long gone. What returned… is something else.”
He sipped slowly. “Which means we play the game his way now.”
Serena’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to let him walk all over us?”
“No.” Victor set down the glass. “I’m going to cut off his legs first.”
Later that day — Underground Medical Facility
Cole Maddox winced as the stitching needle bit his skin.
“Damn,” he muttered. “For a dead man, he’s got great aim.”
Damian stood nearby, arms crossed.
“You were the distraction,” he said. “They wanted to see how I’d react.”
“Test shot?”
“No,” Damian said. “Message.”
Cole exhaled. “How long before they send another?”
“They won’t,” Damian said. “I already sent one back.”
Meanwhile — Elara Quinn’s Apartment
She couldn’t sleep.
Not after what she saw.
Not after that boardroom meeting… or the name.
Damian.
She’d heard rumors. Whispers. But no one believed them.
He had been declared legally dead. Buried in secret. Case closed.
But the man in that room wasn’t a ghost. He was real. Alive. And more dangerous than she remembered.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled open the drawer of her nightstand.
Inside: an old photograph.
Four people. Younger. Smiling. Naive.
Damian Voss stood beside her, his arm around a girl she barely remembered.
And behind them… Victor Voss, with his hand resting proudly on Damian’s shoulder.
Flashback — 10 years ago
Elara had been the intern. The orphan with nothing, taken in by the Voss family as a PR project.
Damian was kind. Curious. Protective.
But when the scandal hit—when money went missing and signatures pointed to him—Victor made it clear:
“Either testify, or you go back to the gutter.”
She’d chosen survival.
And she never forgave herself.
Present
Now he was back.
And he knew who she was.
Her phone buzzed. Encrypted signal.
A message from Victor:
“He’s vulnerable now. Find his weakness.”
She stared at the text.
Then, against every instinct, typed a reply:
“What if he doesn’t have one?”
Damian’s Private Office — Midnight
The city lights bled through the blinds, casting bars of gold across the dark leather desk.
Damian tapped the screen of his tablet. Photos loaded one by one.
Victor. Serena. Corrupt board members. Bribed officials. Offshore accounts.
Then, finally, Elara Quinn.
He zoomed in.
Her face.
Her expression at the board meeting.
She hadn’t recognized him at first—but she did now.
Cole entered, leaning on a crutch.
“She’s in play,” he said. “You sure you want to use her?”
Damian didn’t respond at first.
“She was part of it,” Cole added. “She helped destroy your name.”
“I know,” Damian said.
“But you still hesitated.”
Damian’s eyes darkened.
“I don’t hesitate.”
He closed the file.
“She wants a game? I’ll give her one.”
The next day, Elara receives an invitation.
From Damian Cross.
To a private dinner.
No security. No handlers. Just the two of them.
The message is simple:
“Let’s talk. One liar to another.”
Previous Chapter
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Chapter 23 – Masks at the GalaThe ballroom glittered like a scene from a dream—if dreams came with thousand-dollar champagne and calculated smiles sharpened to a knife’s edge. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a warm gold glow, bouncing off polished marble floors and the shimmer of couture gowns. The string quartet played something elegant and forgettable, the kind of music meant to sound expensive without distracting from the real show—the politics happening between every polite toast.Damian stood at the head of the marble staircase, one hand resting lightly on the rail, the other holding a glass of champagne he hadn’t touched. From up here, he could see the entire crowd—bankers, senators, tech moguls, and royals who had flown in from across the globe for his “Save the Future” charity gala. The event was ostensibly about funding next-gen clean energy initiatives. In reality, it was about reminding the world—and certain enemies—that Damian Kane was still in control.He had been
Chapter 22
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Chapter 21
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Chapter 20
Chapter 20 – The ShotThe clone’s finger tightened on the trigger.Elara’s breath caught—her last thought was Damian’s name—A thunderclap exploded in the narrow corridor.The clone’s expression froze mid-sneer, confusion flickering in his eyes. For a fraction of a second, it was almost human. Then a spray of crimson fanned out across the white-walled bulkhead, his knees buckled, and he collapsed sideways with a heavy, wet thud.Elara blinked, half expecting to see her own blood. Her chest still rose and fell—no burning hole, no sudden collapse. She looked up.Standing at the far end of the corridor, framed by the lingering haze of gunpowder and the harsh overhead lights, was a woman in matte-black tactical gear, her long rifle still smoking. Her blonde hair was tucked under a snow-hood, goggles pushed up onto her forehead.The Huntress.“Target down,” she said, her voice steady, like she’d just finished a routine shot at a range.The Arrival of The HuntressCole groaned from the floo
Chapter 19
Chapter 19 – Clone WarThe hiss of the reinforced door sliding shut echoed like a steel coffin sealing.Elara’s eyes locked on Damian—no, the impostor Damian—as the cold fluorescent light sharpened the angular planes of his face.His stance wasn’t just tense—it was predatory. The warmth that had flickered in his gaze during their mission together was gone, replaced by an expression so devoid of humanity it felt like staring into a hollow shell.Cole shifted beside her, keeping his rifle trained, but she saw his finger ease off the trigger just slightly. He was reading the situation, calculating—because Damian’s voice was different now.Flat. Deadly.“Orders are clear,” the clone said. “Kill you. Recover the boy. Deliver him to Lucian. No deviations. No hesitations.”The air seemed to compress around them.Elara’s pulse slammed in her ears, but she forced her tone to stay even. “You’re not him.”The clone tilted his head, a mimicry of Damian’s familiar motion, but it was wrong. Too exa
Chapter 18
The alarms still hadn’t stopped screaming. Red strobes painted the black-site lab in pulsing waves, every flash catching the gleam of fractured stasis tanks and the slick sheen of condensation dripping from ruptured containment lines. The smell was sharp—ozone, coolant, and the faint copper tang of blood.Lucian’s voice was absent, but his presence was everywhere—through the sterile hum of surveillance drones drifting along the ceiling rails, the biometric scanners on every exit, the armed soldiers stationed at the perimeter. He didn’t have to be here in person to be watching.At the far end of the chamber, two figures—identical in every visible way—circled each other. Both Damian. Both dangerous.Elara’s pulse hammered in her ears as she moved between shattered consoles, trying to keep a visual on them. The clone’s blows were as precise as the real Damian’s, his footwork just as disciplined, but there was something in the cadence—a fraction too measured, too… rehearsed. The real Dami
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