Nyxara Rising
There’d been no flicker of shame, no hesitation—only hunger and triumph.
Fuck them, she thought, the phrase an anchor in her chest.
The penthouse felt like a mausoleum, cold and echoing, save for the constant, low thrumming of the servers humming behind the walls. It was her fortress—custom-built, powered by off-grid solar arrays, impossible to trace or breach. Outside, the city sprawled in silver and neon, its skyscrapers flexing their muscles against the night, all oblivious to the predator perched above them, measuring their every secret.