The night did not soften WAN Empire.
If anything, it sharpened it.
Engines hummed beneath the underground garage as Storm adjusted the cuffs of his jacket, eyes fixed ahead. The air smelled of oil, metal, and violence waiting to happen.
"Status?" he asked calmly.
Rhoda's fingers flew across her tablet. "LOS Empire convoy crossed the east docks twenty minutes ago. Same pattern as last week. Same arrogance."
Danger scoffed. "They're daring us."
Storm glanced at him. "Or baiting us."
Shooter loaded his weapon with a sharp click. "Orders?"
Storm didn't answer immediately.
Above them, Lady Anna watched from the glass balcony, wine untouched in her hand. Her presence alone silenced the room.
"This is not a raid," she said coldly. "It is a message."
Storm inclined his head. "No civilian casualties."
Her eyes flicked to him. "Did I say civilians?"
The pause that followed was heavy.
"Move," she ordered.
★
Curly scrubbed the kitchen counters harder than necessary, her thoughts refusing to settle.
Lady Anna's voice echoed in her head.
You have your mother's eyes.
The words clung like smoke.
"Curly."
She turned to see Michael standing in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, expression unreadable as ever.
"You're bleeding," he said calmly.
She looked down.
Her palm was raw, scraped red from scrubbing.
"I didn't notice," she murmured.
Michael handed her a cloth. Their fingers brushed briefly.
She flinched.
He noticed.
"I won't hurt you," he said quietly.
She laughed without humor. "No one ever says they will."
A corner of his mouth twitched—not a smile. Something closer to understanding.
"Storm and Danger left," he added. "Tonight won't be quiet."
Curly stiffened. "Another mission?"
"Yes."
"Against who?"
Michael studied her for a moment too long. "Against ghosts who refuse to stay buried."
That answer unsettled her more than the truth would have.
---
★
The docks were alive with shadows.
Storm signaled for silence as their vehicles cut their engines.
Across the water, LOS Empire men laughed, unaware.
Danger's jaw was tight, eyes scanning.
"You feel it too," he muttered.
Storm nodded once. "This isn't business."
Before Danger could respond, gunfire erupted.
Chaos followed.
Storm moved like his name—precise, controlled, devastating. He disarmed two men without killing them, firing warning shots that sent the rest scattering.
Danger wasn't as restrained.
His anger found targets.
Every punch, every shot carried years of resentment, frustration, and a hunger to prove something—anything.
Shooter cursed. "They're retreating!"
Storm raised his hand. "Let them."
Danger turned sharply. "We can finish this."
"No," Storm said firmly. "That's what they want."
A single figure stood at the far end of the dock, watching.
Tall.
Still.
Michael.
Danger's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is he doing here?"
Storm's gaze hardened. "Watching."
Michael met Storm's eyes across the distance. Something unspoken passed between them.
Then Michael turned and disappeared into the dark.
★
Back at WAN Empire, Lady Anna waited.
When Storm reported success without bloodshed, her lips pressed thin.
"You let them escape."
"They wanted pursuit," Storm replied. "This was smarter."
She stepped closer, voice lowering. "Do not confuse restraint with weakness."
Danger stood rigid beside Storm.
Lady Anna's gaze slid to him. "And you?"
"I followed orders," he said.
Her eyes bored into him. "Did you?"
His fists clenched.
"Yes, Mother."
The word tasted bitter.
She turned away, dismissing them both.
"Prepare for retaliation," she said coolly. "Wan Empire won't forgive humiliation."
As they left, Danger spoke under his breath. "She'll never forgive me."
Storm didn't disagree.
---
★
Curly sat with Angela, Micka, and Sony later that night, pretending to listen as Angela talked endlessly about nothing.
Her mind was elsewhere.
"Curly," Sony said suddenly. "When Lady Anna looks at you… does it feel personal?"
Curly hesitated. "Yes."
Sony exhaled slowly. "Then be careful. Personal wars last the longest."
Angela frowned. "You're scaring her."
Sony shrugged. "Better scared than dead."
The room fell silent.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Curly hugged her knees to her chest, heart pounding.
Somewhere in the empire:
Guns were being cleaned
Orders were being rewritten
Old grudges were stirring
And somehow…
She was at the center of it.
Not because of what she had done.
But because of who she was.
And whatever truth was coming—
It was already in motion.