SHADOW QUEEN: THE RISE OF JENNA BROOKS.Chapter 8: Mira’s Mask
547 Words
The chandelier above the ballroom glittered like a constellation, casting fractured light across marble floors and champagne flutes. New Avalon’s elite mingled in gowns and tuxedos, the stench of power masked by perfume and polite applause.
At the center of it all stood Mira Kale—graceful, radiant, adored. Her smile was calculated, her steps choreographed to the rhythm of ambition.
But behind her eyes, Jenna saw it—fear.
She stepped through the crowd like a shadow in silk, black evening dress slit high, crown tattoo at her collarbone barely visible. She didn’t need to sneak in. Her name was now on the guest list—whispered, bribed, manipulated into being. The Shadow Queen could be anywhere. Tonight, she chose to be here.
Their eyes met across the floor. A flicker of history. Then Mira turned, raising a glass to her audience.
“Tonight, we celebrate unity,” she said into the mic. “A city reborn from chaos.”
Jenna moved closer.
“Lies taste sweet with champagne, don’t they?” she said loud enough for the front row to hear.
Gasps fluttered like wings. Mira’s mask didn’t c***k, but her knuckles whitened on the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mira said smoothly, “this woman is a known criminal—wanted in connection with several violent—”
“—crimes you orchestrated,” Jenna cut in. “Shall we play the footage?”
Null had hacked the gala’s master display. The massive screen behind Mira flickered, replacing scenic drone footage with encrypted recordings—meetings between Mira and Vargo, council bribes, whispered orders, her signature authorizing Jenna’s arrest years ago.
Chaos bloomed.
Mira turned to the screen in horror, the crowd erupting in murmurs.
But Mira wasn’t done.
“I warned you,” she snapped, reaching into her clutch. She pressed a button.
Suddenly, every screen in New Avalon—public billboards, news broadcasts, even private feeds—flashed with grainy surveillance: Jenna in the pit fights, Jenna during the heist, Jenna leaving burning wreckage behind.
A citywide alert screamed:
“Fugitive Identified: Jenna Brooks. Armed. Extremely Dangerous.”
The ballroom erupted. Security swarmed. Phones came out.
But Jenna didn’t run.
She looked Mira dead in the eyes and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said. “For proving my point.”
Jenna turned and walked straight through the chaos.
No mask. No escape.
The world now saw her not as a victim, not as a myth—but as a threat.
And she welcomed it.
Back in the shadows, Bones was waiting.
“You’re on every screen in the city,” he said. “You’ve made yourself the villain.”
“No,” Jenna said, slipping on her gloves. “I made myself the truth. They wanted a monster.”
She looked back at the city skyline, now burning with her name.
“Let’s give them one.”
- Writer
