When shadows knock twice
1285 Words
Zina sat alone in the glass lounge upstairs, her face turned away from the city lights that blinked back at her like false promises. Damian had gone to speak with the lawyers again—tightening loose ends, pressing charges, ensuring Leon’s name wouldn’t survive another quarter.
But silence, no matter how golden, had a way of screaming when it was all you had.
She blinked. Then again. Still no peace.
“You’re not safe.”
The voice came from behind her.
Zina didn’t startle. She just turned, already sensing who it was.
Yvonne Kole, draped in silk and steel, walked forward and took the seat across from her. In her hand was a small box—a velvet thing that didn’t belong in a warzone like this.
“Not from Leon?” Zina asked softly.
Yvonne shook her head. “Not just Leon. And not just from outside.”
Zina frowned. “You think there’s someone inside Kole Enterprises?”
Yvonne’s fingers grazed the edge of the box. “I think snakes shed skin. But they never stop being snakes.”
She opened the box and slid it across.
Inside was a chain. Thin, elegant. But the pendant—cold black jade—gleamed like a hidden warning.
“It was mine when I became engaged to Damian’s father. Not for aesthetics. It’s been tracked, coded, and encrypted. If you wear this, I’ll always know when something’s wrong.”
Zina stared at it, heart twisting. “So you think something will go wrong.”
“I know it,” Yvonne said. “Leon isn’t the type to accept defeat. He’s the type that burns the chessboard when he loses.”
Zina closed the box slowly. “I’ll wear it.”
A pause.
Yvonne reached out, placing a hand over hers.
“My dear… we fight with grace. But we do not forget we’re in a fight.”
Zina nodded, throat thick. “Thank you.”
—
Elsewhere in the city, deep underground where concrete swallowed light and time, Leon punched the wall so hard his knuckles split.
“He embarrassed me!” he yelled, blood dripping.
Amira sat on a crate, legs crossed. Unbothered. “Correction. You embarrassed yourself. You walked in there like a clown without a plan.”
Leon turned on her. “Don’t act like you’re not part of this! We were supposed to take control. I gave you everything.”
“Except brains,” she snapped. “You’re spiraling, Leon. That’s what makes you dangerous. Not to them—” she pointed toward the surface, “—to us.”
He wiped his hand on his shirt. “Then let’s stop spiraling.”
Amira raised a brow. “Meaning?”
Leon stepped closer. “No more subtlety. No more legal games. We end this our way.”
Amira smirked. “Finally.”
But then she hesitated. “And what’s the plan? Because we don’t have backup anymore. Your tech guy bailed. My lawyer contact went silent after Damian leaked the documents.”
Leon’s lips curled. “Then we don’t ask for help. We take it.”
—
The next morning, Zina walked into Kole Enterprises with her head high.
Everything about her was polished, refined—but sharper than before. She wasn’t just Damian’s woman. She wasn’t a target. She was the weapon now.
People watched her as she passed—curious, fearful, in awe.
The elevator opened, and when she stepped into the top-floor boardroom, it was already humming.
Damian stood at the head of the table, voice calm but edged with that authority that could cut glass.
“…the forensic accountants have cleared the third quarter files. No leaks from the CFO’s office. But our cybersecurity flagged something last night.”
Zina’s pulse tightened.
She took her seat next to him.
“What kind of flag?” she asked, interrupting.
Damian handed her a tablet. “Someone tried accessing your private system. Firewalled. But the attempt came from a proxy route through your old data—when you used to work with Leon.”
Zina stared at the IP trail. And then she laughed softly.
“Stupid. He taught me once. But he forgot—I outgrew him.”
Damian watched her. “We’ll trace the proxy. But that’s not all.”
He nodded at his assistant, who dimmed the room.
A video played on the screen—grainy, low-quality footage from outside the hospital garage.
A figure appeared. Slim. Female.
Zina frowned. “That’s not Amira…”
“No,” Damian said, voice grim. “It’s someone else. Someone we don’t know yet.”
She watched the figure pace near the security camera, then pull something from her jacket—what looked like a mini drone or bug device.
“Did she plant something?” Zina asked.
“Yes. And it took our team five hours to find it.”
Damian exhaled. “Someone is helping Leon. Someone trained.”
Zina sat back.
Her voice was calm, but her heart was already calculating.
“Then I’ll bait them.”
Damian’s gaze snapped to her. “What?”
“Let them come to me. They want chaos? I’ll be the fire they walk into.”
—
That night, Leon received a burner message.
She’ll be alone tomorrow. Schedule cleared. Afternoon. Weak spot.
No name. No source. But Leon’s blood ignited.
He showed it to Amira.
“You ready?” he asked.
Amira smirked. “Always.”
—
The next day, Zina exited the Kole building at precisely 2:17pm. She wore a tan coat, black gloves, sunglasses. Her hair was braided back, controlled. Her steps were unhurried.
But she wasn’t unguarded.
Three levels above, across the street, someone watched through a scope.
“Target is moving. Confirm?”
A voice crackled through the line. “Confirm. Wait till she’s isolated. Then follow. No mistakes.”
—
Zina didn’t go home. She took a detour, entered a closed art gallery on Laroque Street—one that belonged to a friend who owed her a favor.
Inside, it was quiet. Still.
She walked past glass frames. Past paintings that whispered violence in colors. And then she stopped in front of a piece titled Inheritance.
The painting showed a woman standing in a burning field—crown on her head, sword in her hand. But her eyes were bleeding.
Zina studied it for a second.
Then said, “Now.”
Damian stepped out from the back hallway. Yvonne followed.
“Camera picked up a tail,” Damian said. “Amira’s not with them. But someone is close. And it’s not Leon.”
Zina nodded.
“I’m ready.”
—
The trap was set.
Within ten minutes, the shadow figure entered the gallery.
She moved quickly. Efficient. But not fast enough.
Yvonne slammed the door shut with a click.
The woman froze—face still hidden beneath a hoodie.
Zina turned.
“You came for the gold,” she said. “But you walked into steel.”
The woman lifted her head.
And Zina blinked.
“You,” she whispered.
It wasn’t someone she knew well. But it was someone she remembered.
Years ago. From one of Leon’s underground meetups. A girl who’d always been silent. Smart. Good with devices.
Now grown. And still in Leon’s pocket.
“I thought you left him,” Zina said.
The woman smiled faintly. “He never lets you leave.”
“Too bad,” Damian said, stepping forward. “You’re leaving now.”
—
Ten minutes later, security had her detained. The data on her phone alone was enough to expose a dozen old betrayals.
But Zina’s focus was no longer on her.
It was on Leon.
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