13
The stolen car sped through the city streets, headlights cutting through the early morning darkness. Selene kept her hands tight on the wheel, her knuckles white. The gunshot wound on her arm burned, but she pushed the pain aside. They had bigger problems.
Elliot sat in the back, still shaking, mumbling curses under his breath. Damian, riding shotgun, kept his gun in his lap, scanning the streets behind them.
"We need to disappear," Elliot said finally. "Go dark for a while."
Selene shook her head. "That's exactly what Stanton wants. If we run, we give him time to clean up the mess we made."
Damian smirked. "We're not running. We're finishing this."
Elliot let out a dry laugh. "You two are crazy."
"Maybe," Selene muttered. "But we're still alive."
She took a sharp turn down a deserted alley and killed the headlights, bringing the car to a slow stop. The engine hummed, the only sound in the tense silence.
Damian stretched, cracking his knuckles. "So, what's the plan?"
Selene reached into her jacket, pulling out the hard drive they had nearly died for.
"This," she said, "is the only leverage we have. We need to make sure it reaches the right people."
Elliot frowned. "We already leaked some of it."
"Not enough," Selene countered. "The press will run with what we gave them, but Stanton still has power. If we want to bring him down for good, we need to take away everything."
Damian grinned. "Now you're talking."
Setting the Trap
They needed a secure place to work, somewhere off-grid.
Selene had just the place.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. It had been used for smuggling years ago—one of Stanton's old operations before he moved on to bigger things. Selene had scouted it a long time ago, knowing it might come in handy.
The inside was dark, dust swirling in the dim light of the streetlamps outside. They moved quickly, barricading the doors and checking for any unwelcome surprises.
Selene set up the laptop on a crate, plugging in the hard drive again. The files loaded up, each one more damning than the last.
Elliot hovered behind her, hands on his knees. "We're really doing this, huh?"
Selene didn't look up. "Yes."
She clicked a folder labeled Blackmail Operations.
Inside were video recordings, phone calls, bank statements. Stanton had dirt on everyone—judges, senators, even members of his own organization.
"This isn't just corruption," Damian said, scanning the screen. "This is insurance."
Selene nodded. "Stanton doesn't just own people—he controls them. If we release this, we're not just exposing him. We're turning everyone against him."
Elliot rubbed his face. "You realize this means war, right? He'll come at us with everything."
Damian smirked. "Then we'd better hit first."
The Message
Selene drafted a message.
She sent copies of the files to several journalists, federal investigators, and even a few of Stanton's rivals. People who had been waiting for the right moment to turn on him.
Then, she crafted one final message—for Stanton himself.
> You built your empire by holding people hostage with their own secrets.
Now the whole world knows yours.
See you soon.
She hit send.
Damian grinned. "Damn. That's cold."
Selene leaned back, exhaustion creeping in. "Now we wait."
Elliot sighed. "And hope we survive the night."
The Retaliation
They didn't have to wait long.
Less than an hour later, the sound of tires screeching outside sent them all into motion.
Damian grabbed his gun. Elliot cursed, scrambling for cover.
Selene pulled out her pistol, her heartbeat steady.
The warehouse filled with silence.
Then—a voice.
"Well, well. I have to say, I'm impressed."
The doors swung open, and Stanton stepped inside.
He was alone. No guards. No gun in his hand. Just him, dressed in his usual tailored suit, his expression unreadable.
Selene tightened her grip on her weapon. "You're either very brave or very stupid."
Stanton smiled. "You've certainly made things difficult for me."
Damian scoffed. "Good."
Stanton's gaze flicked to the laptop. "You think you've won? That this changes anything?" He sighed, shaking his head. "You don't understand how power works, do you?"
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."
Stanton took a slow step forward. "People like me don't fall because of a few leaks. We adapt. We survive." His eyes darkened. "The question is… do you?"
A chill ran down Selene's spine. Something wasn't right.
She glanced at Damian—he sensed it too.
"Where are your men?" she asked.
Stanton smiled.
The lights in the warehouse cut out.
The Betrayal
Gunfire erupted in the darkness.
Selene dived behind a stack of crates as bullets tore through the air. Damian fired back, his muzzle flashing in the pitch-black room.
Elliot screamed.
Selene's mind raced. Stanton had planned this. He had never needed an army—he had someone on the inside.
She turned just in time to see Elliot standing frozen, a gun pointed at Damian's back.
Selene's blood went cold.
Damian was still firing, unaware.
"Elliot!" Selene shouted.
He turned, tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
And then—he pulled the trigger.
A Friend's Goodbye
The gunshot echoed, deafening.
Damian staggered forward, blood spreading across his side. He fell to one knee, gasping.
Selene screamed. No.
She didn't think—she reacted.
Her gun snapped up, her finger squeezed the trigger.
Bang.
Elliot's eyes went wide.
He collapsed.
The gun slipped from his hand as he hit the ground, lifeless.
Selene's breath came in sharp, broken gasps.
Damian groaned, clutching his wound. "Son of a… bitch."
Stanton's laughter filled the air.
Selene turned, rage boiling inside her.
Stanton stood at the exit, unharmed.
"You had a good run," he said. "But this is where it ends."
Selene's grip on her gun tightened.
"No," she growled.
"This is where it begins."