The flight to New York had been grueling, leaving Zaria in a haze of jet lag. When she finally reached her new apartment, she felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Her mother had meticulously recreated her old room, right down to the placement of the desk. Even the surveillance was the same; Zaria knew without looking that officers were already stationed in the perimeter. Her life was a gilded cage, no matter the zip code.
She had just finished unpacking and was about to take a bite of a sandwich when her laptop chimed with a piercing notification.
[L!N4.FX surpassed your point total. RANKED LOSS.]
"What?" Zaria stared at the screen, her fatigue forgotten. "Who the hell is Lina.fx? And how did she break my encryption?"
She leaned into the blue light of the monitor, her eyes narrowing with a competitive fire. "You want to play, Lina? Fine. Bring it on. The real game just started."
[Poe's penthouse]
Miles away, in a darkened room lit only by the glow of three monitors, Poe let out a triumphant yell, jumping up from her ergonomic chair. In this world, she wasn't the "black sheep" or the timid cousin. Here, she was a predator.
"Yes! I'm finally in the ranks," she whispered, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. "Bye-bye, @SilentZ. There's a new ruler in town."
She cracked her knuckles and dove back into the code, using the digital rush to drown out the echoes of Amira's threats.
In her own apartment, Elara stared sadly at her phone. "So, she won't even apologize? Fine. Two can play that game, Katya."
She tossed her phone onto the sofa, but the sound was interrupted by the sharp ring of the doorbell. Thinking it might be Katya coming to make amends, Elara hurried to open it.
She didn't even have time to scream.
As the door swung wide, a hand reached out, driving a sedative-filled needle into her neck. She collapsed instantly, falling into the arms of a man in a black balaclava. Three men moved with military precision; the lead operative sent a quick text—Job done—before they vanished into the night with Elara's limp body.
[Kieran's manor]
The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the world outside Kieran's window. He stood in his room, looking at a silver-framed photograph of his family: his mother, his father, his younger brother Kael, and another face from their past.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
"How is the plan progressing?" His father's voice was like gravel, cold and demanding.
"It's coming along, Father. The Ivanovs won't know what hit them."
"Good. And the girl... I want you to hit her where it hurts. Break the foundation, and the house falls."
"Yes, Father," Kieran replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Ascoltami bene, figlio," his father said, his tone turning firm. "Listen carefully. Do not forget who you are. Do not let her blue eyes make you weak."
"Certo, padre. I won't disappoint you. Say hi to Mom and Kael for me."
The call ended. Kieran stared at his reflection in the dark window for a long moment before heading for the shower, trying to wash away the weight of the Romano name.
***
Across the city, Katya received a frantic, encrypted alert. Without a second of hesitation, she tore through her closet, pulling on a black leather jacket, combat boots, and a low-profile cap. She tore out of the manor's garage in her black Aston Martin, the engine roaring like a caged animal as she sped toward the Romano estate.
[Kieran's manor]
Kieran was still dripping wet, a towel slung low around his waist, when the surveillance monitors in his room flared to life. A black car was screaming up his driveway. A dark, dangerous smile curled on his lips.
"Ah, Frost... talk about perfect timing."
He didn't bother getting dressed. He descended the grand staircase, barefoot and bare-chested. When he pulled open the heavy front door, he was met with the cold steel of a barrel pressed against his forehead.
Katya stood there, the rain dripping off her brim, her hand steady as she cocked the gun. She didn't flinch at his state of undress; her eyes were fixed on his with murderous intent.
"Today is the day we end this, don't you think?" she asked, stepping into the foyer and forcing him back.
"Ouch," Kieran drawled, raising his hands in a mock surrender. "Not even a hello?"
"Spare me the drama, Kieran. You had no business taking Elara. Your feud is with me, not her."
Kieran tilted his head, his expression shifting from playful to cruel. "Sorry, who's Elara? Oh, you mean that faithful lackey you call a best friend? You know, I actually feel bad for the girl. She's been nothing but loyal to you, and you treat her like trash because you think the world revolves around the Great Katya Ivanov."
He took a step forward, the gun barrel digging into his skin, but he didn't stop.
"Let me tell you something you don't want to hear, Frost. The world doesn't revolve around you. And maybe she's better off with us than being your shadow."
The words hit Katya like a serrated blade, cutting through her icy armor. For a fraction of a second, her steady hand wavered.