"Haaahhh... haaaahhh... haaaaaahhh..." Alexa panted heavily, running through the alleyways. The Shiro Mafia was right on her heels, guns drawn.
"I guess I overdid it again. Hihihi!" she giggled, referring to her earlier raid on one of the Shiro Mafia's bases. The Mafia of White—better known as Shiro—had been her sworn enemies for years.
"Don't let that Black escape! You little pest, I'll kill you!" one of the men shouted, firing his gun.
To the Shiro, calling her 'Black' was an insult—a constant reminder of her allegiance to the Kuro Mafia. The two factions had been at war for decades, their rivalry stretching far beyond mere crime. It was a battle of ideals, of dominance, and of control over the underground world.
"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, DIRT BALLS! GO SUCK A LOLLIPOP! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Alexa taunted, dodging through tight alleyways, leaping over crates, and weaving through the chaos.
However, in her reckless escape, she found herself cornered against a towering wall.Just as her mind raced for a way out, a soft whimper reached her ears. Her sharp eyes flickered downward.
Amongst the shadows, a small, trembling figure lay curled up—a tiny wolf cub, its silver-white fur matted with blood, its body barely rising with shallow breaths.
Alexa's grin faded.
"Oh, hell no... Who did this to you?" she muttered, crouching beside the pup. Its striking blue eyes flickered open, locking onto hers with an eerie intensity.
For a brief moment, the world around her blurred. The shouts of her pursuers, the distant honking of cars—everything faded into silence. It was just her and this wounded creature.
The wolf cub let out another feeble whimper, its frail body shivering.
Something inside her stirred. An unfamiliar warmth settled in her chest, a protective instinct so fierce it startled even her.
"Alright, cutie, you're coming home with me," she murmured, carefully lifting the small creature into her arms.
The chase could wait. This little guy needed her more than any fight did.
Once she was clear of danger, she pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number.
Sebastian, their family butler, to ask and have him call their family veterinarian.and the Black Ninja 650 she brought was already in tatters
"Lady Alexa, I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting," Butler Sebastian said as he pulled up in a sleek black Aston Martin DB9 Coupe.
I grinned at him, cradling a small wolf pup in my arms. "You don't have to apologize all the time, Kuya Sebby. Look what I found! Isn't he adorable? I'm taking him home—onegaaaaiii~~~!".
I pleaded, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes.
Sebastian sighed in defeat. "As if I have a choice, my lady. But let me carry him—he's freezing, and those wounds look deep."
I handed him the pup and snatched the car keys from his pocket. "Great! You take care of him, and I'll drive!""Lady Alexa—wait! You'll kill me!"
"Relax, Sebby. Call the vet. I'll handle the road." I laughed, stepping on the gas.
Sebastian had every reason to be worried. I was Alexa Campfer Sreight Black, the eldest daughter of Emperor Kian Black known as the Capo.
Seventeen years old. The next heir to the clan.
While others celebrated my birthday with a grand party tonight, I was here—on the streets,
saving an injured wolf. My responsibilities could wait.
Because despite my stubbornness, I knew how to lead. I planned things my own way, but I always put the safety of the clan first.
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Butler Sebastian's POV
Alexa had always been different. While most heirs trained under strict rules, she had carved her own path. Her love for animals was one example—her mansion suite was practically a rainforest. A personal jungle with waterfalls, lakes, and towering coconut trees.She had four tigers, two lions, and countless dogs. All trained. All loyal.She would rule differently from her father. But she would rule well.
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Alexa's POV
An hour later, the vet had finished treating the pup. I named him Vleid, inspired by the bloodied state he was in when I found him—a survivor, much like myself.
Just as I was settling in, the peace of my sanctuary was shattered.
"Nee-chan, I'm home!" Xander's voice rang through the room as he barged in without warning, completely disregarding the concept of knocking. "Sebby said you got a new pet?"
I clicked my tongue in annoyance. "Do you guys ever knock?"
At thirteen, Xander was a tech prodigy—our clan's hacker, the one who ensured our data stayed untouchable and who worked alongside our mother to design gadgets.
Trailing behind him was Xanthine, our resident explosives and poisons expert. She was fierce, sharp, and had ambitions of becoming a neurosurgeon, though for now, she seemed far more entertained by experimenting with anything volatile.
We were siblings. But sometimes, it felt like we were warriors first.
"Nee-chan, how's everything? Mom was looking for you all afternoon," Xanthine drawled, arms crossed. "You need to get dressed. We're supposed to be at the hall by nine. Dad has some big announcement—something about a certain someone recklessly scouting Shiro's base and getting caught." She shot me a knowing look, dripping with sarcasm.
So that was what this was about. These two had barged in just to check out the pup and scold me.
I scoffed. "I was just scouting. Someone sensed me, but I don't know how. The important thing is, I made it back in one piece. Oh, and I found this little guy along the way. Isn't that great?"They weren't impressed.
Before they could lecture me further, I left them to their usual bickering—something about invading each other's labs without permission. Typical.
Tuning them out, I changed into my power suit, preparing for the night ahead. My birthday celebration, my father's announcement—whatever was coming, I needed to be ready.
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Event's Place - Hirono Hotel (Grand Hall)
The grand hall pulsed with the smooth, sultry rhythm of jazz, the soft wail of a saxophone weaving seamlessly through the air like silk. A rich melody from the grand piano flirted with the steady hum of conversation, creating an atmosphere both refined and intoxicating. Dim golden light bathed the room, glinting off crystal glasses and polished silver, casting elegant shadows across the marble floor.
The air carried the faint notes of aged whiskey, fine wine, and freshly lit cigars, mingling with the aroma of exquisite cuisine—truffle-infused hors d'oeuvres, delicate seafood canapés, and decadent desserts waiting to be savored. Waiters in crisp black suits moved effortlessly between the guests, silver trays in hand, offering glasses of champagne and cocktails crafted to perfection.
At the heart of it all, Alexa and her siblings entered, their signature wavy, curly hair catching the soft glow of the chandeliers. Dressed in pristine white, they stood out effortlessly—poised, regal, yet entirely in control of their surroundings. The subtle rustle of their attire, elegant yet made for movement, barely disturbed the rhythmic sway of the event.
A murmur of admiration rippled through the crowd, some lifting their glasses in acknowledgment, others offering subtle nods of respect. With a graceful, knowing nod, Alexa acknowledged them in return, her gaze calm, unreadable. Her presence alone was enough to command the room.
The guests were a mix of elite power players, seasoned veterans of the family's empire, and high-ranking allies, all moving in a careful dance of conversation, laughter, and quiet negotiations disguised beneath pleasantries. The atmosphere was relaxed, yet no one forgot where they stood—power and influence whispered beneath every word exchanged.
Kian together with his wife Helena, standing near the bar, offered a rare, approving nod to his daughter before turning his attention to the gathered guests. With a commanding presence that needed no embellishment, he lifted his glass, his deep voice cutting through the gentle hum of music and conversation.
The grand hall was alive with the sultry rhythm of jazz, the warm glow of chandeliers reflecting off crystal glasses as guests murmured in anticipation. Conversations quieted as Kian Black took center stage, his presence alone commanding the room. By his side stood Helena, her poise unshaken, her gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd with quiet authority.
Kian raised his glass, his voice carrying easily over the soft hum of music.
"Tonight, we celebrate not only Alexa's birthday but also the strength of our family and its future." His words were measured, steady. "With that, there is an important decision to be shared."
A pause. The weight of the moment settled over the guests, eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"For the next year, I am appointing a right-hand man—someone to oversee our transactions in both the legal world and the underworld. Someone who understands both sides and can act with precision, intelligence, and loyalty."
Beside Kian, Helena's lips curved into the slightest knowing smile as she continued, "Brent Vilagio."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Brent stepped forward, his sharp features illuminated under the soft golden light. He carried himself with the quiet confidence of a man raised in power yet shaped by discipline. Two years older than Alexa, once their childhood playmate, and now stepping into a position of immense responsibility.
Kian turned to Brent, a nod of approval passing between them. "He is a Black by blood, raised with the same values, the same fire. My sister's son, trained to uphold the family's legacy. For the next year, he will stand as my right hand."
Brent inclined his head respectfully, his voice smooth yet unwavering. "It is an honor. And I intend to prove that this trust is well placed."
The room responded with quiet applause, glasses raised in acknowledgment. Some with genuine approval, others with veiled curiosity.
Alexa, standing among the guests, met Brent's gaze for the briefest moment. A silent understanding passed between them—the weight of expectation, the shift in power dynamics, and the unspoken challenge this would bring.
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The Gift
Then the jazz resumed, the moment dissolving back into the rhythm of celebration.
As she moves through the crowd with practiced ease, accepting nods of respect, brief words of congratulations, and the occasional touch of a glass raised in her honor.
The night was effortless—a seamless blend of power, poise, and calculated appearances.
Then, amidst the perfectly curated elegance, something felt off.A small, velvet box lay on one of the side tables, nestled among elegantly wrapped gifts and sleek envelopes. It was distinct—black, soft to the touch, tied with a delicate gold lace ribbon. No sender's name, no emblem, no indication of who had left it behind.
She felt a shift in the air as she picked it up.
Something was wrong.
With measured movements, she undid the ribbon and lifted the lid.
Inside, curled in eerie stillness against the silken interior, was a dead mouse.
The soft lighting did little to dull the unmistakable message. A quiet, deliberate sign of defiance. A threat.
For a fraction of a second, Alexa said nothing. Her fingers traced the edge of the box, her expression unreadable. To anyone watching, it would seem as though she had merely received another elegant token—perhaps a piece of jewelry, a trinket from an admirer.
Alexa's fingers curled around the velvet box as she walked away from the gift table, her movements measured, her expression unreadable. The weight of the message inside it lingered, heavy in her palm.
She didn't look around, didn't scan the crowd for a guilty face—that was exactly what they wanted. Instead, she strode toward her mother.
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The Conversation
Helena Black sat with effortless grace, engaged in quiet conversation with Kianna and Benjamin Vilagio, Brent's parents. By her side, Xanthine, ever the unpredictable one, was listening while idly swirling the champagne in her glass, her gaze flicking between the conversation and the subtle dynamics in the room.
Alexa approached, careful not to disrupt the flow of the evening. As if sensing her, Helena's gaze shifted, sharp yet unreadable.
"Mother, may I have a moment?" Alexa's voice was smooth, unwavering, but Helena knew her daughter too well.
Helena excused herself with a gentle nod to their guests, standing with the same quiet authority she always carried. They walked a short distance to a more private corner, still in sight of the gathering but far enough for words to remain between them.
Without preamble, Alexa held out the small, black velvet box. Gold lace ribbon untied. Lid slightly open.
Helena didn't take it—she didn't need to. Her eyes flicked downward, taking in the sight of the lifeless mouse curled against the silk lining.
For a moment, the soft melody of the jazz ensemble filled the space between them.
Alexa spoke first. "It was left on the gift table. No name. No sender."
Her voice was calm, but Helena caught the way her daughter's fingers pressed just a fraction too tightly against the box.
"This isn't just a warning," Alexa continued, lowering her voice. "It feels...calculated. Thought out. Too deliberate. No one has ever tried something this direct, not against us. Not like this."
Helena was silent, her expression betraying nothing, though Alexa knew she was already piecing things together. After a moment, Helena reached out, gently closing the box.
"And how does it make you feel?" her mother finally asked.
A test. A lesson.
Alexa met her gaze. "Like someone wants me to react."
Helena's lips barely moved, but Alexa could hear the approval laced within her quiet reply.
"Then don't."
A flick of her fingers, a silent command.
Alexa understood immediately—she wouldn't discard the box, but she wouldn't let it dictate her next move, either. Whoever sent it wanted to shake her, to provoke an emotional response.
Instead, she would do exactly what they feared most.
She would stay composed. She would watch. She would wait.
The game had already started.