The vast underground chamber was silent, save for the quiet hum of machinery and the soft glow of surveillance screens lining the walls. In the center of it all, the Lord stood like a statue—still, composed, but seething beneath the surface. His sharp eyes flicked over the live feeds, showing his sisters' safe house as it was surrounded by enemy forces. Helicopters circled overhead, boots pounded the ground, and the crack of gunfire echoed through the city streets.
Three hundred men. Helicopters. Armored vehicles. Heavy artillery. The enemy had come with full force, and for the first time in a long while, they had dared to strike this brazenly, this openly.
And they had dared to target his sisters.
Sarah and Helena. His blood. His responsibility.
The Lord's hands clenched behind his back, his posture deceptively calm. But inside, the fury burned hot, boiling beneath his cold exterior. His eyes, normally sharp and calculating, were darkened with a rage so deep that even those who served him would have felt the chill had they been in the room. He was a man who ruled the shadows, a man who rarely allowed his emotions to interfere with his decisions. But this—this was different.
His sisters were in danger. His enemies had overstepped, made a move that broke the delicate balance of power he had maintained. They had forced his hand.
The room seemed to tighten around him as he made his decision. Restrictions or not, he would answer this act of war with his own show of power.
Behind him, a soft voice broke the silence.
"My Lord."
The Lord turned slightly, his gaze locking onto the figure who had emerged from the shadows—a woman clad in black, her face partially hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. Seraphine, his most trusted lieutenant, the right hand of his empire. She moved with her usual grace, though there was an edge to her now, a sharpness in her demeanor that mirrored his own fury.
"They've made their move," Seraphine said, her voice low, deadly. "The city is swarming with their soldiers. They've gone beyond subtlety."
"I see that," the Lord replied, his voice a quiet storm. His eyes never left the screens, where the enemy forces continued their assault on the building that housed Sarah and Helena. The explosions, the gunfire—it was chaos, and they were surrounded.
Seraphine stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she followed his gaze. "If we send reinforcements now, they'll draw even more attention. Every faction in the shadows will see this as a declaration of war."
The Lord's lips pressed into a thin line. He knew the risks. He had kept his forces hidden, had played the game of power in the shadows, maintaining control without ever exposing the full extent of his reach. But this—this was a challenge. An attack on his blood, his family.
And his patience had run out.
"The enemy has already declared war," the Lord said, his voice cold. "They've made enough noise to draw attention from every corner of the world. My response will be equally loud."
Seraphine raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slight smile. "So, we're sending them?"
The Lord nodded, his decision made. "Send the Black Ravens."
Seraphine's smile widened, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. The Black Ravens were the Lord's most elite unit—ten operatives who specialized in swift, brutal, and surgical strikes. Each one was a master in their field, trained to deal with situations that demanded absolute precision and lethality. They didn't fail. They didn't retreat. And they didn't leave survivors.
"Very well, my Lord," Seraphine said. "Shall I lead them?"
"No," the Lord replied, his gaze hardening. "You will remain here. I need you watching the other factions. This move will shake the balance."
Seraphine inclined her head, understanding the weight of his command. "As you wish."
The Lord turned back to the screens, watching as his sisters' situation grew more dire. Sarah and Helena were trapped, surrounded on all sides by an army that showed no mercy. He could see the fear in Sarah's eyes as she clung to Helena, the desperation in the way she looked for an escape that didn't exist.
They thought they were about to die.
The Lord's jaw clenched. He would not allow that to happen.
"They won't know what hit them," Seraphine said softly, her voice filled with quiet satisfaction.
The Lord's eyes flicked to the far side of the room, where the Black Ravens were already gathering, their faces hidden behind black tactical masks, their movements silent and efficient. They had been waiting for this moment, ready for the order to strike. The ten members of the Ravens stood in a perfect line, each one carrying the air of a predator preparing for the hunt.
At the head of the group stood their leader, a man known only as Specter. His name was a whisper in the underworld, a shadow that haunted those who had ever crossed him. Specter was a master of infiltration, a ghost who moved between the cracks of the world, unseen and deadly. His eyes were hidden behind a visor, but even through the dark glass, the Lord could feel the intensity of his focus.
"They're expecting a simple firefight," the Lord said, his voice low, controlled. "They won't be prepared for you."
Specter nodded, his voice a deep, quiet rumble. "We'll make it swift."
The Lord's gaze darkened as he issued his final command. "No survivors."
On the Streets of the City
The rain had intensified, falling in thick, heavy sheets that pounded against the pavement as the enemy forces continued their assault on the safe house. The low rumble of helicopters circling overhead was deafening, their searchlights sweeping over the streets, illuminating the destruction below.
Inside the building, Sarah and Helena huddled together in the corner, their bodies pressed against the cold wall as the sound of gunfire and explosions filled the air. The walls shook with the force of the attack, and Sarah could feel the dust and debris falling around them, the building itself threatening to collapse.
Helena's grip on Sarah tightened, her small, trembling hands clutching at her sister's arm as though she were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with terror, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Sarah…" Helena whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. "I don't want to die."
Sarah's heart broke at the sound of her sister's fear. She pulled Helena closer, wrapping her arms around her as tightly as she could, but the truth gnawed at her. She didn't know how they were going to survive this. They were surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned. There was no escape.
"We're not going to die," Sarah whispered back, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay calm. But even as she said the words, she didn't believe them. The fear had sunk deep into her bones, paralyzing her, and she knew there was no way out.
The sound of boots thundered outside the room, the enemy forces drawing closer, their shouts and gunfire growing louder with each passing second.
Sarah's mind raced, searching for a solution, a way out, but there was nothing. They were trapped. This was it.
And then, just as the sound of gunfire seemed to reach its peak, everything went silent.
A heavy, oppressive silence that filled the air, so sudden and complete that it sent a shiver down Sarah's spine.
Helena looked up, her eyes wide with confusion. "What… what's happening?"
Sarah didn't know. But the silence felt wrong, unnatural. As if something had shifted. The enemy was still outside, but they had stopped shooting, stopped moving.
"What's going on?" Sarah whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.
And then, in the distance, she heard it.
The faint sound of footsteps.
Not the heavy, pounding footsteps of the enemy soldiers, but something else. Quieter. More deliberate. Closer.
They were coming.