The penthouse stank of sweat and liquor. Delgado sat slumped in a chair, shirt unbuttoned, his broad chest heaving with shallow breaths. The table before him was littered with broken glass, scattered documents, and an untouched pistol gleaming under the light.
He hadn't slept in two days.
Every screen around him pulsed with accusations. Rival contractors leaking files. Journalists publishing exposés. Even a senator's name had appeared in the swirl of scandal, demanding answers. Each alert stabbed him deeper, unraveling the myth of his invincibility.
And worse than the public shame was the silence. Ramos hadn't called. Estrella hadn't checked in. Torres fed him short, clinical updates—cold words about Cipher's decoy activity in the net, as if Delgado's empire wasn't collapsing around him.
He grabbed a glass and hurled it against the wall, the shattering echo barely masking the words boiling out of him:
"Where are they?! Where are my brothers?"
The door to the suite burst open. Ramos strode in, his sheer bulk filling the space like a storm cloud. Behind him, Estrella slipped in quietly, her eyes scanning everything with soldier's precision.
Ramos didn't ask permission. He grabbed Delgado by the collar and yanked him out of the chair.
"Pull yourself together, puta," Ramos growled, his voice a thunderclap. "You're making us look weak."
Delgado struggled, his face red with rage. "Weak? I've been gutted! He's in everything I own! He's made me—"
"—a liability," Estrella cut in sharply. Her voice was cool, but her eyes burned. "Do you think Villareal will protect you when this scandal burns hot enough to touch Malacañang? No. He'll cut you loose before Cipher even has to finish you."
Delgado froze. The word hung heavy: liability.
His breathing turned ragged, eyes darting between Ramos' scowl and Estrella's cold judgment. For the first time in his career, he felt smaller than the shadows he had once commanded.
"I can fix this," Delgado whispered, half to them, half to himself. "I just need—"
Ramos slammed him against the wall, cracking drywall with the force. "You need to shut up and remember what we are. Shadows don't break. You break, you die."
Estrella stepped closer, her tone softer but sharper than any blade. "Listen carefully, Delgado. Cipher is hunting us piece by piece. If you show weakness, if you make us bleed more resources because of your greed, I'll put a bullet in you myself before Cipher ever gets the chance."
Delgado's mouth opened, but no words came. Sweat dripped down his face, and for the first time, he didn't see himself as untouchable. He saw himself the way Cipher must have seen him: bloated, careless, and ripe for destruction.
Ramos let him drop, disgust plain in his eyes. "Get your head straight, or you won't have one."
As the two Shadows left, Delgado remained on the floor, broken glass around him like the shards of his empire. He realized then, with hollow certainty, that he was no longer the predator. He was prey, caught between Cipher's quiet war and his comrades' growing contempt.
And prey never lasted long.
Across the city, Cipher stared at the dim glow of his monitors. Delgado was collapsing faster than he'd even hoped—proof that greed was the easiest thread to pull. But Cipher knew he couldn't linger. The Shadows would tighten ranks now. They'd be more disciplined, more cautious.
Which meant it was time for him to shift focus.
Ramos was brute force, Estrella was precision, Torres was intellect. But Santos—the silent one—remained untouched. No flashy corruption to exploit, no arrogance to bait. He was a blank page.
Cipher leaned forward, fingers steepled. Men like Santos were the most dangerous—the ones who said little, left no trace, and struck without hesitation.
He began compiling what little fragments he had: encrypted comms pinged at odd hours, ghostly gaps in surveillance where someone should have been visible but wasn't. Patterns so faint they almost looked like random noise. Almost.
Cipher smiled grimly. "Ghosts leave footprints too. You just have to know where to look."
He cracked his knuckles and opened a fresh file. Operation codename: Silent Storm.
It was time to drag the quietest Shadow into the light.