--
The elevator ascended smoothly to the top floor of Steele Tower, but I barely noticed the ride. My reflection in the mirrored walls stared back, cold and unreadable. The city stretched out below, glittering in the night, a sharp contrast to the storm brewing inside me.
Two weeks since the funeral. Two weeks since my father’s death had been wrapped in a neat, perfumed lie.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal my penthouse—a space as luxurious as it was impenetrable. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline, but my focus wasn’t on the view. My gaze drifted to the far corner of the living room, where a biometric scanner waited behind a piece of unassuming art.
I moved quickly, pressing my hand to the scanner. A soft click echoed as the hidden entrance to Cloud 9 slid open, revealing the elevator beneath.
---
Cloud 9 wasn’t just an R&D lab; it was a war room. A sanctuary for secrets. My father had built it as a place where no Council member, no spy, no supernatural could breach.
The sleek space hummed with quiet efficiency. Walls of holographic screens displayed encrypted data streams and surveillance feeds. Along one side, the armory glinted under sharp white lights. On the other, Riley Blake sat hunched over her workstation, the glow from her monitors casting shadows on her face.
She looked up as I entered, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You’re late,” she said, echoing my earlier jab at her.
“Find anything?” I asked, ignoring the comment.
Riley smirked. “Always.”
She swiveled her chair toward a screen, tapping at the controls. A set of schematics filled the display—data pulled from my father’s ill-fated plane.
“This override command was buried deep,” she began. “Whoever programmed it wasn’t just trying to crash the plane. They were sending a message. It’s Council tech, Alexi. No question about it.”
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“Which faction?” I demanded, crossing my arms.
“That’s the tricky part,” she admitted. “The encryption doesn’t match any one faction’s signature—it’s almost like someone wanted to implicate all of them.”
I frowned. A smokescreen. It was classic Council politics: muddy the waters until no one could see clearly.
Riley leaned back in her chair, studying me. “If this was an inside job, you’re not just dealing with power plays. You’re dealing with people who aren’t afraid to kill their own.”
“I’m counting on it,” I replied, my voice cold.
Riley gave a low whistle. “Remind me never to cross you.”
---
Later that night, I stood in the sparring room at Cloud 9, the plasma blade in my hand humming faintly. Each strike against the combat dummy sent vibrations up my arms, but the pain only sharpened my focus.
Every move was a question. Every impact, an answer.
Who killed him?
Why?
And how long before they come for me?
“Your frustration is evident, Alexi.”
I turned sharply, the blade deactivating as I faced Wednesday, my father’s AI. Her holographic form materialized in the center of the room, elegant and unflinching.
“I’m fine,” I said curtly.
“Your heart rate suggests otherwise.”
I exhaled through gritted teeth. “Just tell me what you’ve found.”
Wednesday tilted her head, a small gesture of understanding. “I’ve cross-referenced Council activity logs with the rogue vampire incidents from the past year. Seven events stand out. Each time, your father raised concerns. Each time, he was overruled—primarily by Marcus Grey.”
The vampire faction leader. The name alone was enough to send a wave of anger through me.
“There’s more,” Wednesday continued. “The last recorded altercation between your father and Grey occurred three days before his death. The argument was not logged in the official Council records.”
I stared at her, my mind racing. “Why wasn’t it logged?”
“Unknown,” she replied. “But it is highly irregular.”
Irregular. A sanitized way of saying someone was covering their tracks.
---
The club was a different kind of battleground. Neon lights pulsed like a heartbeat, and the bass thumped hard enough to shake the walls. Ethan Cross’s domain was a haven for supernatural politics disguised as decadence.
The vampire entrepreneur lounged in his private office, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a devilish grin on his face.
“Alexi Steele,” he greeted, motioning for me to sit. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I didn’t sit. “Rogue vampires in Star City,” I said bluntly. “What do you know?”
Ethan chuckled, swirling his drink. “Straight to business. I like that about you.”
He leaned forward, his grin fading. “The rogues weren’t random, Alexi. They were coordinated, organized. They weren’t just feeding—they were searching for something.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question. But whatever it was, it spooked the Council enough to clean house. Marcus Grey personally handled the aftermath.”
“Of course he did,” I muttered.
Ethan raised a brow. “Careful, Alexi. Grey isn’t someone you poke lightly. He’s old, powerful, and viciously territorial.”
“So am I,” I said, turning to leave.
Ethan’s voice followed me. “You’re playing a dangerous game. Don’t forget—the Council doesn’t just protect its secrets. It buries them.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Then they should’ve killed me, too.”
---
Back in my penthouse, the city lights stretched endlessly before me. The Council thought they could intimidate me. They thought I was just another human bound by their rules, fumbling in the dark.
They were wrong.
Gripping the edge of the balcony, I stared into the night.
“You think I’m scared of you, Marcus?” I murmured, my voice low.
The answer was already clear in my mind.
Not yet. But you will be.
---