The study was a void of inky blackness, a space that seemed to swallow light whole. At first glance, it seemed empty, until a closer inspection revealed a hulking armchair nestled by the fireplace.
There, the dancing flames cast an eerie, flickering shadow on the wall – the indistinct outline of a figure seated within.
A man slinked into the room, his weight shifting nervously from foot to foot, no doubt uneasy. He was a short, unremarkable man, and something about him screamed untrustworthiness. His eyes, small and beady, darted around, and his mouth was framed by thin lips above a patchy, desperate attempt at a moustache. It was less a beard and more a collection of stray hairs that had lost their way. The man's name was Tim. He squinted, trying to see past the flames and shadows and discern the person sitting on the chair.
"If you value your sight, I suggest you look elsewhere," a voice rasped, cutting through the silence and jolting Tim. It was a strange and jarring mix of static and a deceptively soft undertone, clearly altered by technology. Tim recoiled into the deeper shadows, a silent mantra repeating in his head: money, just the money, not how his employer looked.
"I-I'm sorry, sir… or ma'am," he stammered, offering a crooked, yellow-toothed smile that caused a wave of revulsion to ripple through the unseen figure. "We don't discriminate in this business after all."
"I prefer silence," the voice stated flatly, and the smile withered on Tim's face. He shuffled back, closer to the door, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. What had he said to anger this boss?
A subtle hand gesture from the chair. From the corner of Tim's eye, a shadow detached itself from the wall, elongating, solidifying, and then stalking toward him. Tim's blood ran cold. He would have bolted, convinced it was some dark sorcery, had the shape not become terrifyingly clear. It was a man, a goliath whose arms seemed capable of crushing a skull like an eggshell. Had scientists started splicing human and gorilla DNA? Tim wondered, a morbid fascination momentarily eclipsing his fear.
"Meet my handler," the voice announced. The giant stopped just at the edge of the firelight, his body still cloaked in shadow, and extended an arm. A sleek briefcase dangled from his massive fingers. Tim reached for it, tugging, but the case remained stubbornly fixed. The man's hands were still clasped around the handle.
"Hey! You want the job done, don't you? I need my money!" Tim yelled, yanking harder, but it was useless.
"You understand that failure would be… disastrous for you, yes?"
"This ain't my first rodeo," Tim retorted, annoyance creeping into his voice. Who was this person to lecture him? He'd been the one sought out, not the other way around.
"You understand, yes?" The strange voice persisted, a hint of impatience now lacing the modulated tones.
"Yeah yeah, I understand you perfectly. I ain't gonna fail," Tim replied, his eyes still on the case. This time, when he tugged, the case came free. He scrambled back into the darkness, putting distance between himself and the "science experiment," as he now privately referred to the handler.
"Good. You may take your leave."
Tim fumbled with the door, stepping out into the hallway. He risked a glance back into the shadowed study but the handler was gone, swallowed once more by the gloom. A shiver traced its way down Tim's spine. He turned, closed the door with a soft click, and hurried away.
A minute crawled by, the only sound in the room the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock.
"Eliminate him once the job is done. I despise loose ends."
"Understood."
Mona
I stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of my 31st-floor office—not just any building, but mine. I inhaled deeply, forcing down the frantic beat of my heart, a traitorous drum whenever my feet left solid ground. Instead, I focused on the exhilarating thrum of power coursing through my veins, the sweet vindication of a dream realised. Another deep breath in, a slow exhale out.
"Practising meditation already? This job must be harder than I thought."
I startled, spinning around to face Desiree, who chuckled at my wide-eyed expression. "Relax," she teased, "you look like you've been caught doing something illicit."
"I didn't hear you come in," I replied, turning back to the windows. "And no, just appreciating the view."
She joins me, a little shorter but every inch my equal. "The view is exquisite, isn't it? All those ants scurrying about, utterly oblivious to the true architects of their lives."
"Indeed," I murmured, a faint smile touching my lips. Desiree often indulged in our shared fantasy of playing as gods. "Ignorance truly is bliss, isn't it? Besides, it makes our work all the more…efficient." I turned from the window, meeting her gaze. "You never did explain why I should steer clear of Kade Everhart."
Desiree didn't turn or even glance my way, but I saw the subtle stiffening of her shoulders. Hmm... Interesting. Did she have a history with him? "You looked into him? Wasn't my word enough?"
I cocked my head, assessing. "You know as well as I do that in our world, 'your word' means nothing. So, enlighten me: why should I keep my distance?"
She finally turned, her expression hardening. "He's not like us. We're willing to do anything to reach the top; he isn't. He's a stickler for the rules, a by-the-book type. He wouldn't hesitate to expose our 'evil deeds' to the public." I opened my mouth to interject, but she shook her head, silencing me. "I know what you're thinking, Mona. But no, he doesn't have secrets."
"Everyone has secrets, Desiree," I stated, walking towards the vast mahogany desk that commanded the room, my fingers tracing its smooth, polished surface. "Child, teenager, adult. They all hide something. You just have to know how to find it. And I, my dear, happen to be exceptionally good at it."
She sighed, stepping towards me. "Mona—"
A knock on the door interrupted her. "Enter," I called without looking up.
Julian, her assistant, entered, his usual composure slightly frayed. He looked at Desiree. "Mrs. Montgomery is about to create a scene if you don't appear in three minutes."
I exchanged an amused glance with Desiree, though she looked slightly annoyed. "I'm coming. Mona, we'll talk later." She followed Julian out, grumbling under her breath.
A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant hum of the city below. I picked up a sleek tablet from the desk, its screen alive with intricate schematics and dazzling financial projections. The numbers danced, a silent testament to the empire I had meticulously built, brick by painstaking brick.
Another knock. I smiled, glancing at my watch. Punctual, as always. "Enter."
A woman stepped into my office. "I have the details of Kade Everhart's next appearance."
A pleased smile spread across my face. Sorry, Desiree. Some temptations are simply too strong.
"Excellent," I purred, a predatory glint in my eyes.
I hoped Kade liked surprises.
The cafe I'm sitting in is definitely not where I expected to meet my… partner of sorts. The air is filled with a low, happy buzz – the clatter of ceramic mugs, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the murmur of distant conversations. It smelled of roasted coffee beans and something sweet, like cinnamon. My gaze drifts to the walls, plastered with whimsical illustrations of capybaras in various poses, some wearing tiny hats, others lounging in miniature pools. The workers even lean into the theme, sporting adorable variations of capybara ears clipped to their uniform caps. I've never met this guy but I would have thought that he would be the stuffy type that preferred quiet, and expensive restaurants. Not a struggling business that served latte with animal foam art.A man walks in and I sit up straight, my eyes narrowing, monitoring him as he goes to the counter. He's a little bit older than I assumed, early fifties give or take, with a round belly straining slightly against the butt
“Ma'am, this silk blouse, in the emerald, would perfectly complement your eyes,” the sales associate cooed, holding up a shimmering garment in front of me. I glanced at the top briefly, enough to appreciate its design for a moment, but even the beauty couldn't keep my mind from wandering.“I'll take it. Ring it up with the others,” I replied, handing her my platinum card. Stella, from the brief glance on her nametag revealed, snatched it with a delighted gleam in her eyes, and walked away, no doubt eager to swipe it and get her commission. I gritted my teeth. Another strike against Kade. Despite the fact that my net worth was running in billions, I hated spending money, a statement which didn't make sense considering the lengths I'd gone to, to acquire it. Somehow, every dollar that left my account, caused a familiar knot to tighten in my chest and a phantom ache in my shoulder.I supposed the persistent fear of suddenly finding myself back on the streets, penniless and destitute was
The car screeched to a halt in front of Nok, a sleek, modern building that catered to the palates and discreet meetings of some of the world's most influential figures. As I stared up at the building, a surge of adrenaline rushed through me. I was meeting Kade without his knowledge…again! This time, however, not for pleasure. A knot tightened in my stomach at the thought of Kade, a familiar surge of anger battling with an unwelcome flicker of curiosity. Mostly anger, though. Pure, unadulterated fury at what he has done.Every part of me buzzed, an urging to lash out at everything and anyone, but I clamped down on the impulse. I had vented enough for today, in front of my employees no less. I couldn’t lose it in front of Kade too.There was no point in letting him know he'd succeeded in rattling me, a feat no one had managed to accomplish in years. I would first uncover his angle and then proceed from there. The elevator ride up to the sixth floor felt like I would be in there forever
“Explain to me, why you still haven't found the person responsible for this?” I stared at the fools all lined up in front of me. Forty-five percent of Wing Pharmaceuticals, stolen right under my nose. My head of IT, Ben, a small mousy man who I could probably snap in half, fidgeted, his gaze fixed somewhere above my head. My chief financial officer, Sarai, clutched her hands together, her knuckles white, her usual composure replaced with tremors. My lawyer, Davies, was also present and while he was usually a calm presence, I could tell by the he kept clicking his pen that even he was nervous.“Mona, we’ve been working tirelessly,” Ben began, his voice laced with apprehension. “We’ve scoured every digital footprint, every backchannel. It’s like they vanished into thin air after the transaction.”“Vanished?” I repeated, My voice was dangerously soft, a silk-edged blade. “That's your excuse! No one takes a huge chunk of my company and then disappears without a trace.” “Or perhaps you’re
Kade's POV “Well, that was certainly entertaining,” she said, voice dripping with an almost theatrical nonchalance. “He really does have a flair for the dramatic, doesn't he?” I stared at her, my mind reeling. There was no sign of distress, no anger, not even a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. Just unsettling amusement. “A performance?” I repeated, my voice tight. “Mona, he just accused you of… well, I don’t even know what he accused you of, but whatever it was he was clearly furious.” She shrugged, “Eh. Emilio is always furious, especially when he doesn’t get his way.” She takes a step closer, and the jasmine scent, mixed with something else—something warm and spicy—enveloped me. “Besides,” she continued, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur, “that's what happens when people can’t handle being played at their own game.” I blinked, stunned. “Played? What exactly did you do to him?” A mischievous glint appeared in her dark eyes. “Let’s just say I acquired a rat
Kade's POVI was half-listening to Emilio drone on and on about his golf club, my attention drifting, when a jolt of raw energy coursed through me. It wasn't a physical sensation, but a deep, primal thrum in my bones, an undeniable knowing that seemed to paralyse me on the spot. She's here! A ripple of murmurs started at the far end of the hall, near the entrance. Heads turned, bodies parted, making way for someone who commanded attention. Only one person I'd ever met could elicit that kind of response. Ignoring Emilio's ceaseless monologue, I turned, my gaze locking onto her as she moved deeper into the room. She was easy to spot, towering over most of the crowd, at over six feet tall.My eyes swept downwards, and I nearly had a coronary right there on the floor. Her gown, a deep crimson, like the heart of a ruby, flowed around her, clinging to her curves before cascading to the floor like a whispered promise. The off-shoulder design exposed the delicate curve of her collarbone, and