They each understood that no one could take down Rhea’s syndicate alone. Yet, beneath their outward composure, resentment simmered, a silent undercurrent of suspicion and guarded intentions.
We gathered inside the safe house, the concrete walls vibrating with the low hum of tactical servers. Far from prying eyes and ears, the air here smelled of gun oil and stale coffee, a stark contrast to the velvet cage of the Olympus penthouse I’d just escaped.
Seated on the couch, I observed everything, catching every word and subtle gesture. I listened as they discussed the syndicate’s vulnerabilities, noticing small shifts in tone andhesitation, with each piece of information feeling like a fragile fragment of their shared secret.
“She thinks she’s untouchable,” Zeno growled, swirling the whiskey around in his glass.
“The money-laundering hit was the right opening,” I spoke up, my voice cutting through their posturing.
Both Thal and Zeno looked at me in surprise, and for a moment, the room fell silent as they processed that I wasn't just following them but actually leading the strategy.
“Rhea’s power lies in her payroll,” I continued, leaning over the table. “You freeze the accounts, you freeze the loyalty. But she’ll have a Cyprus offshore account—the 'black fund.' If we don't hit that, she will buy a new army by sunrise.”
As I spoke, my fingers were already performing digital sleight-of-hand on the tablet. While I mapped the route for the men to destroy Rhea’s empire, I quietly diverted a fraction of that shadow-wealth into a new, untraceable 'Ghost' vault. Zeno wouldn't find it, and Thal didn't need to know. It wasn't just money; it was the price of my own crown.
I looked up, meeting Zeno's gaze. A flicker of recognition, maybe even pride, crossed Zeno’s face before he masked it.
“She’s right,” Zeno said, his voice dropping an octave as he looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “She knows the architecture of that fund better than I do.”
“People don’t remain loyal to a sinking ship,” Thal added, regaining his composure and nodding at my assessment.
“Her biggest fear isn’t losing,” Aidon replied. “It’s losing control.”
He was thoughtful and quiet, and I wondered how he felt about his work. Aidon’s specialty was blackmail, and he had wielded his knowledge like a dagger, piercing straight to the one thing Rhea couldn’t control.
Her reputation.
Aidon leaked information as if performing a surgical strike on her dignity. I watched the way he tapped a rhythm on the glass, his eyes cold with the satisfaction of a man who had successfully turned a queen into a pariah.
“She’s bleeding out,” Aidon murmured, his voice a jagged rasp. “Her suppliers are ghosting her calls. Her soldiers are looking for new masters because I hit her bank account and poisoned her name. In this city, you can survive a loss of money, but you can’t survive the smell of failure. Rhea is losing more than the war—she’s losing the right to exist.”
“We should be celebrating,” Thal said, giving me a pointed look.
We had been celebrating a lot over the past few days, but it was private, and we were still trying to hide it from Zeno.
“The syndicate is finished in Vegas. We won,” he continued.
His demeanor was composed, yet I heard the edge in his voice.
The truth was, none of us truly felt victorious. My gaze flicked to Zeno, who still swirled his whiskey with his eyes narrowed in thought.
Aidon turned away from the window, his expression clouded with dissatisfaction as he looked at the three of us. Thal sat beside me, radiating a steady heat that I could feel through his body, but instead of focusing on that sensation, my full attention was on Zeno.
I half expected him to lash out at any moment, momentum bubbling just beneath his calm exterior.
“What’s next?” Aidon asked, leaning back against the window and crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was heavy, as if weighing a decision that could change everything. “I think we need to decide how long this alliance will last before someone decides to cut the others down.”
His words hung in the tense silence that followed, heavy with implication. I remained silent, hesitant to move or speak, my eyes fixed on Zeno, holding my breath for his response.
He showed no laughter, no harsh outburst, nothing but that slow, deliberate swirl of liquid in his crystal snifter.
He broke the silence, his voice as smooth as silk but edged with a deadly undertone. “You honestly think Rhea is finished?”
Thal raised an eyebrow, his expression laced with skepticism. “Don’t you?” he asked sharply. “She has no money, no supply chain, no allies—no men who trust her enough to do her dirty work or to protect her. I’d say she’s pretty much finished.”
Zeno's voice was soft, almost thoughtful. “And yet, she’s still alive, isn’t she?”
“What’s that?” Aidon smirked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Worried she’s coming for you next?”
