15
The night air was thick with smoke and the distant wail of sirens. Selene and Damian moved through the alleyways like shadows, each step heavy with exhaustion and pain. Stanton was dead, but the world didn't stop moving. If anything, it felt like it had just woken up.
Damian groaned as Selene helped him toward a stolen car they had stashed earlier. Blood still seeped from the wound in his side, and she knew he wouldn't last much longer without medical attention.
She shoved the car door open and guided him into the passenger seat. He winced but managed a smirk. "Not bad, huh?"
Selene shook her head as she climbed in. "You almost died."
"Yeah, but I didn't."
She didn't reply. Instead, she started the engine and peeled away from the warehouse district, heading toward a safe house she knew.
Stanton was gone. But she wasn't naive enough to think his death meant the fight was over. His empire was still standing. And power never disappears—it just shifts.
The real war was just beginning.
The First Ripple
They reached the safe house—an old, abandoned apartment above a closed-down butcher shop—without incident. Selene dragged Damian inside and dropped him onto a worn-out couch.
"Stay here," she ordered.
Damian grinned weakly. "I'm not exactly going anywhere."
Selene rummaged through an old duffel bag she had left in the apartment weeks ago. It was filled with emergency supplies—ammo, burner phones, cash, and, most importantly, medical supplies.
She pulled out a first-aid kit and knelt beside him. "This is going to hurt."
Damian exhaled. "Just try not to make it worse."
Selene ignored him and pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth against the wound.
He hissed. "Okay, yep. That's worse."
She shot him a look. "Shut up."
Despite the situation, he chuckled. "You always know how to make a guy feel special."
She rolled her eyes and worked quickly, cleaning the wound and pressing a fresh bandage against it. He was lucky—the bullet had gone through clean. He would survive.
Once she was done, she leaned back and exhaled.
"You need rest," she told him.
Damian closed his eyes. "Fine. But wake me up if someone tries to kill us."
She smirked. "Obviously."
As Damian drifted into a much-needed sleep, Selene pulled out her laptop and checked the damage they had done to Stanton's empire.
The files they had leaked were spreading.
More arrests. More chaos.
And more enemies.
The Rise of a New Threat
Her burner phone buzzed. She glanced at the number—unknown.
She hesitated for half a second, then answered.
A deep voice spoke. Calm. Calculated. Dangerous.
"You've made quite the mess, Selene."
She sat up, muscles tensing. "Who is this?"
"You don't know me. But I knew Stanton." A pause. "And I know you."
Selene's fingers hovered over the gun on the table. "What do you want?"
The voice chuckled. "Stanton was a disease. You did me a favor by putting him down."
Selene frowned. "Then why are you calling?"
"Because power doesn't just disappear." The voice was smooth, unbothered. "It finds a new owner."
A chill ran through her.
"Stanton's gone," the man continued, "but his influence, his connections, his wealth—that doesn't vanish overnight." A pause. "And right now, there's a war brewing for the scraps of his empire."
Selene already knew that. The vacuum left by Stanton's death wouldn't stay empty for long.
"You're a problem," the man said simply. "You've proven you're willing to go further than anyone thought. And now, some people see you as a threat."
Selene's grip on her gun tightened. "Let them."
A low chuckle. "Brave. I like that."
She heard the sound of a lighter flicking open, the soft inhale of a cigarette.
"So, I'll make you an offer," the man continued. "Join me. Work with me, and I'll make sure you stay alive through this."
Selene's stomach twisted.
He was offering her a seat at the table.
But Selene didn't work for men like him. She ended them.
She leaned forward. "I don't need your protection."
The man exhaled slowly. "Then you'll die."
The call ended.
The Storm Approaches
Selene stared at the phone for a long moment, her heartbeat steady.
She had just stepped into something bigger than she'd ever imagined.
And she had two choices:
Walk away and disappear.
Or keep fighting—and become something even worse than Stanton ever was.
She looked at Damian, still sleeping, still bleeding.
She had already lost too much.
But if she stopped now, all of it would have been for nothing.
Selene clenched her fists.
She wasn't done yet.