The black car slid to a smooth stop in front of the building—tinted, sleek, armored. No logos, no markings. Just silence.
The door opened and Bruce stepped out.
The morning sun hit his face, but his black sunglasses kept his eyes hidden. He adjusted the cuff of his suit, the wind catching his coat as he walked forward. No bodyguards. No assistants. Just him.
The building in front of him was a tower of matte steel and dark glass—Dhark Technologies, one of the most advanced AI and defense firms in the world. No banners. No advertisements. It didn't need them. The name alone kept competitors up at night.
As he entered, the doors slid open on their own. The lobby was quiet, minimal—clean white marble floors, a digital waterfall on the far wall, and holograms of drones, weapons, and satellite systems hovering mid-air like museum pieces.
The receptionist stood as soon as she saw him. "Good morning, Mr. Dhark."
Bruce nodded once, not slowing down. His Italian shoes echoed softly against the floor as he walked to the private elevator.
Inside, he pressed his thumb against a hidden scanner. The elevator hummed and began to ascend without a sound.
He checked his watch—meetings stacked from top to bottom, patent approvals, a visit from a defense contractor, and a closed-door session with his R&D head about a new satellite cloaking system. But all of that was background noise. His mind was somewhere else.
The Dusk Circle.
He'd been slowly tracing their fingerprints across markets for years—silent buys, offshore shell companies, fake trade routes. He knew they were real. And now, they were starting to bite back.
Good.
The elevator opened to the top floor.
He stepped out into a sleek hallway lined with screens showing internal operations—labs, production floors, live data feeds. His assistant, Miko, walked up quickly, tablet in hand.
"You've got five minutes before the board dial-in. The Bangkok unit just landed their first deal with Indonesia, and your 'special delivery' from Prague arrived this morning."
Bruce stopped walking.
"Bring it to my office," he said simply.
Miko nodded and peeled off.
Bruce walked into his office—floor-to-ceiling glass, pitch-black floors, a wall of digital blueprints behind his desk. From this high up, the city looked like it belonged to him.
He sat down.
Outside, the sky was clear.
Inside, the war had already started.
Few hours later
The sun had already dipped below the skyline when Bruce finally returned to his office.
The golden light of late evening poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the room. The city below was still alive—traffic lights blinking, distant sirens wailing, buildings glowing like stars scattered on the ground. But up here, it was quiet. Still.
Bruce's steps were slow, tired. His jacket was draped over one arm, his shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top. The day had been long. Too many meetings. Too many handshakes. Too many people trying to look into his eyes and see what wasn't there.
He pushed open the office door and froze.
Someone was already inside, sitting in one of the black leather chairs across from his desk.
Diana Halbrook.
Mayor of Vyre City.
His mother-in-law.
She sat like she owned the place—legs crossed, coat still on, hands clasped in her lap. Her hair was sharp, dark grey blending into silver, and her lipstick was a deep shade of wine. Cold elegance, the kind built on blood and power.
Bruce said nothing as he walked in, shutting the door behind him. He didn't show surprise. He didn't ask why she was there right away. He just walked past her, calm and quiet, and set his jacket on the coat stand.
Only then did he sit behind his desk, slowly sinking into his chair like a shadow settling back into place.
He looked her dead in the eyes. "To what do I owe this… visit?"
She smiled softly. That fake warmth that made his teeth grit behind closed lips.
"You've been making noise," she said, crossing her legs the other way. "Big noise. The kind that shakes people out of their chairs."
Bruce didn't respond.
She continued. "The Dusk Circle is moving. You know that, right? They've started circling tighter."
"I know."
"I've stopped two of their hits on your labs," she said, adjusting the cuff of her coat. "The Bangkok shipment and the one from Geneva. Both would've been traced back to you if I hadn't intercepted them."
Bruce leaned back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests. "And why would you do that?"
"Because I'm still the mayor," she said with a smile. "And bad press on my daughter's husband makes me look bad. Let's not pretend we care for each other more than we do, Bruce."
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
She leaned forward just a bit. "I'm telling you this once. I've done what I can. I've pulled the media strings, paid off a few rats, cleaned up a few messes. But my power only stretches so far. The rest is on you."
He watched her. Quiet.
No expression. No words.
"You're smart," she added. "But they're older than you. They've built empires before you were even born. You don't want to start a war with people who treat chaos like tradition."
He gave her a slow nod, the bare minimum. "Thanks for the warning."
Diana stood. Adjusted her coat. Picked up her gloves from the table. "Be careful, Bruce. You're clever, but you're still just a man."
She started walking toward the door.
Bruce's eyes followed her the whole way.
Just before she opened it, she turned her head slightly. "Tell Talia I said hello."
And then she was gone.
The door clicked shut.
Silence returned.
Bruce sat there for a few seconds, still as stone. The city's glow painted soft lines across his desk.
Then—
CRACK.
His fist had slammed down hard enough to shake the entire surface.
Not out of anger. Not rage.
Control.
His knuckles stayed pressed to the desk, white from the pressure.
He was holding back.
His jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed.
He could still feel her presence in the air, that perfume she always wore—the same one she wore that night.
The same woman who grinned while his family begged.
The same woman who gave the order.
The scar on her left chin might be gone, lasered off, but he could still see it.
He could still see her smirk as the trigger was pulled.
She thought he didn't know.
She thought he married her daughter for love.
Bruce slowly opened his hand. His palm was red, marked from the impact.
No…
Killing her now would be too easy.
Too clean.
He had a bigger plan. One she'd never see coming.
And when the time came—
She wouldn't just die.
She would watch her empire crumble.
Her name rot.
And her blood would be the last thing that stained his hands.
Bruce leaned back in his chair again, fingers steepled, calm returning to his face like a mask.
Outside, the night had swallowed the city whole.
And Bruce Dhark was still awake.