VEIL OF DECEPTION

The file was thin but held enough weight to shift the battlefield.

Ethan traced the name inside with his finger, his smirk sharpening. "Well, well… now that's interesting."

Astrid crossed her arms. "I don't do favors for free, Ethan."

He closed the file, meeting her gaze. "And I don't take debts lightly."

Dominic scoffed, rubbing his temples. "This isn't a damn poker game, Ethan. Someone just tried to put a bullet in your head, and you're acting like it's a friendly wager."

Ethan leaned back, unbothered. "Because that's exactly what it is." He tapped the folder. "This? This was a test. A warning shot. They wanted to see how I'd react."

Astrid tilted her head. "And how are you reacting?"

Ethan chuckled. "By inviting them to play."

—

The club pulsed with music, bodies moving under dim neon lights. It was a high-end spot—exclusive, expensive, and crawling with power.

Ethan walked in like he owned the place.

Because soon, he would.

Dominic sighed beside him. "We could handle this differently. You know, quietly?"

Ethan smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"

They headed straight for the VIP section, where Donovan Pierce sat like a king.

A glass of scotch in one hand, a woman draped over the other. His icy eyes flicked up as Ethan approached, amusement flickering across his face.

"Ethan Cross," Pierce drawled, swirling his drink. "Still breathing, I see."

Ethan sat across from him, taking a glass from the table and pouring himself a drink. "Disappointed?"

Pierce chuckled. "Not at all. It's good for business when the entertainment lasts longer."

Ethan raised his glass. "To longevity, then."

Their eyes locked. A silent challenge.

Ethan took a slow sip before setting his glass down. "I assume you've heard about tonight's… fireworks."

Pierce smirked. "Difficult to miss."

"Let's cut the act, then." Ethan leaned forward. "Was it you?"

Pierce took his time finishing his drink, then placed the glass down with deliberate care. "If it was, you wouldn't be sitting here."

Ethan chuckled. "See, that's the thing, Donovan. I don't believe that. Because if you truly wanted me dead, you wouldn't have made it so obvious."

A flicker of something crossed Pierce's face. Approval? Annoyance? It was always hard to tell.

Ethan continued, "So either you didn't send them, or you did, and you're testing me." He tilted his head. "Which is it?"

Pierce exhaled, smirking. "You really think you're important enough for me to waste a bullet on?"

Ethan smirked back. "If I wasn't before, I am now."

Silence stretched.

Then, Pierce leaned back, amused. "You're either reckless or brilliant. I haven't decided yet."

Ethan stood, straightening his jacket. "Decide fast. Because the next time someone pulls a trigger in my direction, I won't be asking questions."

He turned to leave but paused. "Oh, and Pierce?"

Pierce arched a brow.

Ethan smirked. "The game's changing. Try to keep up."

—

Ethan stepped into his penthouse, the city lights casting a glow through the massive windows.

He barely made it past the threshold before a voice drifted from the darkness.

"You're making waves."

He didn't startle. Instead, he smirked, glancing at the silhouette seated in his chair. "Seraphina."

She crossed her legs, her dress clinging to her like shadows. "Pierce isn't your real problem."

Ethan loosened his tie, approaching her. "No?"

She tilted her head. "No. Because the real threat isn't watching you from across a club." Her voice dropped, eyes gleaming. "It's already inside your walls."

He stopped, studying her. "And what do you suggest?"

She leaned forward, close enough that he could smell the jasmine on her skin. "You let me help."

Ethan smirked. "Help? Or control?"

Seraphina's lips curled. "What's the difference?"

For the first time that night, Ethan laughed.

The game had just become even more interesting.