Chapter 10. A Blade in the Ballroom
995 Words
Axil leaned back in the car, eyes darting between Cain and Elara, trying to find a crack in the madness that surrounded him.
“Let me get this straight,” he scoffed, “You want me to waltz into a senator’s building guarded, by the way, like Fort Knox and drop a payload that could get me executed before dessert?”
Cain sat across from him in the dim backseat of the black sedan, calm as a god staring down chaos. His eyes flicked upward, not hurried, not pressed.
“You’ve been tracking underground networks since you were sixteen. You hacked INTERPOL for fun. And now, what, you’re scared of a few rent-a-cops in tuxedos?”
Axil’s jaw worked, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.
“I’m not scared,” he grunted. “I’m cautious. There’s a difference between being a prodigy and a corpse.”
Cain cracked the window open. A cold breeze filtered in. “Then don’t become a corpse.”
Elara chuckled from the driver’s seat. “He’s saying you’re smart. Use it.”
Cain continued, pulling a slim flash drive from his coat and holding it up like a blade glinting in the dark.
“This will get us remote access to the senator’s private system. Emails. Transfer logs. Wire trails. The proof that he and Alucard are in bed together and that Alucard’s been skimming off the top, preparing to blackmail the senator into submission.”
Axil raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you get that info?”
Cain didn’t answer. He just smiled cold, slow, unreadable. The kind of smile that said "I know more than I’ll ever tell you."
Axil blinked. “You’re a psycho.”
Cain leaned in, voice low and flat. “A psycho with a plan.”
Night of the Gala.
The senator’s charity event was as gaudy as expected. Glittering chandeliers, endless champagne, and faces more fake than the auctioned jewellery on display.
Elara slipped in, dressed in the white-and-gold uniform of the catering staff. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, face bare, posture quiet but eyes razor sharp. She weaved between socialites like a shadow, balancing a tray of champagne flutes as if she belonged there.
Once the floor show began, Elara slipped quietly into the restroom. In under a minute, she had stripped off her disguise and pulled on a sleek black dress from the stall's ceiling vent. She emerged not as a server but as "Veronica Hayes", ex-private contractor with a dossier of manufactured dirt and real connections.
Axil, meanwhile, was inside the basement level, posing as part of the sound crew. His new system a sleek black-glass device with built-in cloaking and a real-time scrambler sat open in front of him like a portal to the underworld. He wiped his palms on his jeans, heart pounding.
“Elara, confirm you’re in place,” he whispered through the comm.
“I’m five feet from the target,” she replied. “Briefcase in sight. VIP booth, right pocket. He’s flirting with a redhead who looks like she eats trust funds for breakfast.”
Cain’s voice cut through like a blade. “Keep your eyes sharp. Once that flash goes in, we’ve got thirty seconds to extract data before their internal firewall self-repairs.”
Axil licked his lips. “Got it.”
Elara made her move. She bumped lightly into the senator, letting out an exaggerated gasp.
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry Senator Monroe, isn’t it?”
He turned, all practised charm. “Indeed I am. And you are?”
She smiled, warm but unreadable. “Veronica Hayes. I’m with Darrow Group. I used to do some asset protection out in Hong Kong.”
The name dropped like a stone in still water. The senator’s gaze shifted first suspicious, then intrigued.
“Oh? Hong Kong?” he murmured.
“I know what happened there,” she said, leaning close. “And I know what could happen "here" if you’re not careful.”
The senator’s smile faded. Elara patted his arm with just enough pressure to feel like control.
“I’ll be in touch.”
She dropped the flash drive into his briefcase and walked away without a single glance back.
“Drives in,” Cain confirmed, sitting in an unmarked van across the street. He tapped a button on his laptop.
Axil was already working. Fingers flew across keys, eyes flicking from code to firewalls to trackers.
“Got access to the root system,” he muttered. “Pulling files… damn, this guy’s more corrupt than a church donation box in Vegas.”
Cain barely reacted. “Extract everything. We'll leak it tonight.”
Suddenly, the line glitched. “Wait… s**t… I’m getting flagged. There’s a ghost program tracing me some next-gen AI. This isn’t your average security.”
Cain stood up. “How long until it finds your location?”
“Thirty seconds if I don’t shut it down.”
Elara's voice came through, urgent. “Axil. Abort. You’re gonna get caught.”
“No,” Axil said, teeth clenched. “I didn’t just wear a jacket this itchy to quit now shutting it down. Three seconds…”
Beads of sweat ran down his temple. Cain watched in silence.
“Got it!” Axil hissed, punching the air. “Files secured. We're out!”
The three of them reconvened in the parking garage. Axil looked pale, jittery, but triumphant.
“I feel like I just survived a heart attack.”
Cain gave him a rare nod. “That’s because you did.”
Axil slumped against the wall. “So what now?”
Cain looked at the drive, a gleam in his eye. “Now we let the senator feel what it’s like to be hunted.”
“And Alucard?” Elara asked.
Cain’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“He’ll learn the hard way what happens when you try to bury a dog and leave it for dead.”
- Writer
