VEIL OF DECEPTION

The tension in the penthouse was thick enough to cut. Seraphina leaned back in the chair, watching Ethan with an amused glint in her eyes. She was dangerous—too dangerous—but that only made her more appealing.

Ethan poured himself a drink, the clink of ice breaking the silence. "You don't offer help without a price, Seraphina."

She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Of course not. But my price is something you can afford."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

She stood, her heels clicking against the floor as she closed the space between them. "Loyalty."

Ethan chuckled. "Loyalty? From me?"

Seraphina stopped inches away, tilting her head. "You've been playing alone for too long, Ethan. It's time to pick a side."

He took a slow sip of whiskey. "And if I don't?"

She ran a finger along his tie, smirking. "Then you'll find out what it's like to be truly alone."

Ethan wasn't easily threatened. But he knew a warning when he heard one.

She wasn't just offering an alliance. She was offering survival.

He studied her carefully. "Tell me something, Seraphina. Why me?"

She laughed softly. "Because you're unpredictable. And unpredictability?" Her fingers trailed up his collar. "That terrifies them."

Ethan smirked. "Then let's terrify them together."

—

The underworld wasn't ruled by force. It was ruled by power. Real power. The kind that was whispered about in locked rooms and exchanged over bloodstained contracts.

Ethan knew this better than anyone.

And right now, his name was on too many lips.

He and Dominic walked through the dim corridors of an underground casino, where fortunes changed hands in seconds. This was more than a gambling den. It was a meeting ground for the elite—the ones who moved the city's strings.

Dominic kept his voice low. "Pierce hasn't made a move since your little stunt at the club. That's either good or very bad."

Ethan smirked. "He's waiting."

"For what?"

"For me to make a mistake."

They stepped into a VIP lounge, where three men sat waiting. Old money. Old power. The kind that didn't like disruptions.

One of them, a gray-haired man with cold blue eyes, gestured to the seat across from him. "Mr. Cross. You've been… making quite a name for yourself."

Ethan sat, unbothered. "So I've heard."

The man's expression didn't change. "That's a problem."

Dominic tensed, but Ethan only smirked. "For who?"

Silence.

The man laced his fingers. "We don't like instability, Mr. Cross. And you? You're creating chaos."

Ethan leaned back. "Chaos is just another word for opportunity."

The man's eyes darkened. "Not for you."

Ethan's smirk widened. They were scared.

Good.

He poured himself a drink, taking his time. "Tell me, gentlemen… If I'm such a problem, why invite me here?"

The gray-haired man exhaled, patience wearing thin. "Because we're giving you a choice. Step back. Walk away from whatever power game you think you're playing."

Ethan set his glass down, tapping the rim. "And if I don't?"

The man's voice was ice. "Then you won't have a city left to rule."

—

Hours later, Ethan stood on the balcony of his penthouse, the city stretching below him like a glittering battlefield.

Dominic leaned against the railing, exhaling. "You just pissed off the most powerful men in the city."

Ethan smirked. "Did I?"

Dominic ran a hand through his hair. "Ethan, this isn't a damn game. They're going to come after you."

Ethan took another sip of whiskey. "Then let them."

Dominic stared at him, frustrated. "And what the hell are you going to do?"

Ethan set his glass down, his gaze turning sharp.

"Simple." He turned toward the city lights, his voice calm, steady. Unshakable.

"I'm going to burn their world to the ground."