Kill Her
1469 Words
There was an awkward silence in the dimly lit room, thick enough to press against the walls, amplifying the dark presence of the two men standing side by side.
Cassian Vale stood in the heart of his private war room, thirty feet beneath a fortress disguised as a bank, watching the footage play on synchronized screens. He didn’t speak or move, and somehow that was a lot. His stillness was calculated…like a loaded weapon waiting for a reason to be fired. It was disturbingly obvious that this attack had his attention, and that was never a good thing. One of his warehouses had been blown up… Again.
Behind him, Darius shifted slightly. It was subtle, but for someone like him, it said a lot. He wasn’t the type to get nervous, but this situation was different. He could already feel where this was heading.
“There seems to be a pattern,” he said as he watched the image on the screen. They had been sent the CCTV footage after the attack.
Cassian didn't respond. He stepped closer to the screen and tilted his head to the side, studying the image carefully.
In front of the blown-up warehouse was a dark figure cloaked in black, her face hidden. Cassian gestured for Darius to display the next image, and he obliged. Cassian always preferred still images from videos instead of the full thing, so he could properly access what he needed.
The next image only showed half of the figure’s face, revealing a faint scar. Cassian was quick to notice it. Another way to identify the attacker. From the posture and build, he decided it was a woman. The fool who'd blown up three of his warehouses in the last four weeks was a woman and Cassian tipped his chin up slightly.
“She knows the blind spots,” Cassian noted, realizing her face was hidden in all the images.
Darius exhaled, his tension obvious. “Worse. This is the fourth attack, and it's definitely the same person. And none of those attacks revealed her face, that's… strange.”
“Hmm.” Cassian’s voice was quiet but firm. “I'm trying to understand why this hasn't been handled.”
Darius stiffened.. “We weren't sure it was the same person before, and…,” he trailed off, choosing his words carefully, as everyone learned to do around Cassian. “She's smart. None of the…”
“Are you dumb?” Cassian snapped.
Darius stilled. “No, Capo. I'm not. I'll take care of it.”
Cassian tapped his finger on the marble table in front of him, his eyes still on the screen. “You will. And you will do it now. Find her and kill her. The next news I hear about this should be that she's dead.”
“Now… finding her is the problem…”
“Your job is to fix problems.” He said.
“I will.”
Cassian turned around to face him. “Find her.” His eyes wandered back to the screen and he shook his head. “And kill her before I remember where I've seen her face.”
…..
HIM
Cassian sat behind his desk, going through a stack of important files. This time, it was in a separate building. The office was in a building marketed as an investment company. In truth, the only investments that took place were illegal. Nothing about them was fair. They had many underground operations like this, disguised as legitimate businesses to keep prying eyes away. That didn’t mean prying eyes never came, but it was usually enough to silence them.
Cassian ruled the syndicate, but that didn’t mean he owned it. It was more like a cult. One that had existed for decades, perhaps even centuries. There were others who tried to call the shots. The syndicate elders. People whose job was to oppose whoever ruled, vote when to start a war, and suggest what the ruler should do.
In Cassian’s view, they were fools who lacked the spine or the competence to rule, so they settled into resentment. When they died, their children took their place, and so it became a lineage of resentment.
They hated him. He despised them.
It worked.
They envied his control, the independence he exercised, the risks he took without hesitation. They loathed him, but they couldn’t deny that he had single-handedly built an empire out of the sloppy structure they had left behind. He wasn’t supposed to rule. It had been his brother, the first son, the elders’ favorite. But Vincent was dead, and Cassian had taken the throne right before their eyes.
He brought technology into the syndicate and strengthened their ties with law enforcement. Now they were almost untouchable. Almost. That was what he wanted. Just enough vulnerability to remind them all that he could burn everything to the ground if he chose to.
A knock sounded at the door.
Cassian already knew who it was, so he didn’t respond. Only one person dared knock without being summoned. Darius.
Darius stepped in, glanced around the room, then got straight to the point. “Mara called for a meeting. She’s already there.”
Mara.
Cassian’s sister, and one of the messiest women in the underworld. She was greedy and ruthless, but she was also intelligent. That was the only reason he still regarded her as human. “I’ll be there in five minutes. If she can’t wait, she can go f*ck herself.”
~~
Cassian didn’t knock when he entered the council chamber.
He didn’t need to.
The room was long and wide, designed to exude authority. It was carved from black stone imported from a Corsican quarry, a design meant to impress lesser men. It smelled of cigars, wine, and money too old to remember its crimes. There were six chairs. Only one was ever occupied with certainty. His.
Mara sat at the far end of the obsidian table, legs crossed, perfectly composed. Her suit was tailored in navy silk, heels polished, her expression unreadable. She looked like someone’s art dealer… until she spoke.
“You’re late,” she said, not looking up from the glass of dark wine she held close to her chest.
“I wasn’t invited on time,” Cassian replied.
“Don’t be dramatic. You know you don’t need an invitation to your own stage.”
He didn’t sit. He walked to the far wall, his gaze scanning the still images on the screen behind.
Mara took a slow sip of wine. “There’s chaos brewing. And I don’t like chaos unless I’m the one causing it.”
Cassian turned. “So?”
That earned the faintest twitch of her lip.
She set the glass down and folded her hands. “The others want to vote.”
“On what?”
“On taking control of some of the warehouses.”
Cassian smirked faintly. “They won’t.”
“They might.”
He didn’t flinch. “You wouldn’t let them.”
He wasn’t asking. He was telling.
Mara rose slowly, gracefully, and walked toward him with deliberate calm, the kind most men mistook for elegance.
It wasn’t.
She stopped two feet away, chin tilted, eyes sharp as razors.
“You’ve built your empire on independence, Cassian. But lately… your independence is slipping.”
He said nothing.
Mara gestured toward the still image on the screen. “Who is she?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You should.”
He met her gaze. “Why?”
Irritation stirred, but he kept his expression neutral. He wanted to hear her out.
“Because she’s determined to cause damage.” Mara tilted her head slightly. “It’s becoming a problem.”
Cassian gave her a bored look. If she was here, it meant the news was spreading fast.
Mara smiled faintly.
“You worked hard to build everything after Vincent ruined it and died. I stood by you, even though we both know there’s a story we’ve refused to acknowledge about how he died…” She paused. “Never mind. This feels familiar. Vincent’s reign. Do you remember?”
“I remember nothing,” he said coldly.
“Of course you don’t,” she said. “Because you bury things. That’s your gift. But not all ghosts stay buried.”
She walked past him, brushing his shoulder without touching it. Her voice softened, though the cold remained.
“She’s not coming just for you, Cassian. She’s coming to destroy the syndicate. And I won’t let her.”
He turned slightly. “Let her try.”
Mara stopped in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back. She didn’t look back.
“Careful. You might be great at building an empire,” she said absentmindedly, “but some people are great at destroying it.”
- Writer
