(Cassian’s POV)Cassian sat in front of his office desk as he went through some important files. This time it was in a separate building. It was an office in a building that was marketed as an investment company. But truly, the only investments that took place were illegal, and definitely nothing fair. They had many underground buildings like this that were marketed as something else in order to keep wandering eyes away.

That didn't mean the wandering eyes didn't come, but it definitely shut them up. Cassian ruled the syndicate, but that didn't mean he owned it. It was like a cult. One that had been in existence for decades or even centuries. There were also other people who tried to pull the shots. The syndicate elders. People whose jobs are to oppose whoever ruled, vote when they want to start up a war, and suggest what the ruler should do.

In conclusion, they were fools who didn't have the balls or qualifications to rule, so they became haters. After they die, their children take up the position, and so it's just a generation of haters. They hated him. He despised them. It was actually the perfect match. They hated the control he had. The independence he demonstrated, and the guts he dared to show. They loathed him but couldn't deny the fact that he single handedly built an empire out of the sloppy patriarchy they had established.

He wasn't supposed to rule. His bloodline had never ruled but he changed that. He snatched the throne right before their eyes, and they still couldn't believe it. He brought tech into the syndicate, and tightened their bonds with the authorities and law enforcement. Now they are almost untouchable. Almost. That's what he wanted. To leave a possibility of attack so they knew he could burn it all to the ground if he wanted.

There was a knock on the door. Cassian already knew who it was, so he didn't bother responding. Only one person dared knock on his door without him summoning them. Darius.

Darius let himself in, examined the room, then went straight to business. “Mara called for a meeting. She is already there.”

Mara. Cassian’s sister, and one of the messiest women in the syndicate world. She was greedy and ruthless, but she was also smart, and that's the only reason Cassian still regards her as a human being.

“I'll be there in five minutes. If she can't wait she can go f*ck herself.”

~~~~

Cassian Vale didn’t knock when he entered the Council chamber.

He didn’t need to.

The room was long, wide, and designed to exude seriousness. 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, and only one was ever occupied with certainty.

Mara Vale sat at the far end of the obsidian table, legs crossed, perfectly composed. Her suit was tailored in navy silk, heels polished, eyes 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 like a companion.

“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. Didn’t ask. Just walked to the far wall, eyes scanning the glowing reports behind her. Four operations were compromised. Global routes were re-routed. Silence where there should be control. The woman who’d burned his Bucharest compound was no longer an anomaly.

She was a variable, and he could see that.

One the Council feared.

Mara took a long sip of wine. “We’re bleeding quietly. And I don’t like quiet unless I’m the one causing it.”

Cassian turned. “So speak louder.”

That earned the smallest twitch of her lip. Not a smile. An acknowledgment.

She set the glass down, and folded her hands. “The others want to vote.”

“On what?”

“On limiting your field control and pulling the European syndicates back under direct Council oversight.”

Cassian smirked faintly. “They won’t.”

“They might.”

He didn’t flinch. “You wouldn’t let them.” He wasn't asking her. He was telling her.

Mara rose from her chair… Slowly, and gracefully. She then walked towards him with the kind of deliberate calm that most men mistook for elegance. It wasn’t. It was a calculation.

She stopped two feet away, chin tilted, dark eyes sharp as razors.

“You’ve built your empire on silence, Cassian. But lately... your silence is slipping.”

He said nothing.

Mara reached out…not to touch him, but to press her fingertip lightly against the projection of the Bucharest breach. The image flickered. Paused. Froze on the figure in the hood.

“Who is she?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“You should.”

He met her gaze. “Why?” He was getting irritated but kept his cool because he wanted to know what she was thinking.

“Because she reminds me of someone.” Mara tilted her head. “Someone from before you were this version of yourself.”

Cassian’s jaw tensed.

Mara smiled…barely.

“There was a girl once. In Sicily. Years ago. I’m not trying to say this has anything to do with her, but this attacker is smart. And that girl was the only smart girl that I heard had audacity. This reminds me of that…family. 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 are buried.”

She walked past him now, brushing his shoulder without touching it. Her voice softened…dangerous in its poise.

“She’s not coming to the network," Cassian. She’s coming for you.”

He turned to face her. “Let her.”

Mara stopped in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back. She didn’t look back.

“Careful. You’re not the only one who knows how to build a kingdom out of silence,” she said. “Some women learn how to weaponize it better than you ever did.”

And then she was gone.

Leaving only the wineglass.

And the ghost was still frozen on the screen.

Staring straight at him.