The city was like a bad ex—shiny on the surface but dead inside. Hot as hell, the sun blaring down, but there was always that chill in the air, something cold you couldn't shake. Lena stood on the balcony, wind ruffling her hair, letting the warmth roll over her skin. She didn't even flinch. Skyscrapers glittered in the distance, and for a second, she forgot how much she hated them. Then she remembered. That view? Yeah, she had it memorized. But it didn't matter. Nothing ever did.
The mansion behind her was both her gilded cage and the crown she wore like a queen. She owned it, but it owned her, too. People thought she had it all—rich, beautiful, untouchable. They were wrong.
She was beautiful, sure. Men loved that part. They didn't know what the rest of her was like, though. Not the scars beneath the skin. Not the twisted little things that made her who she was now.
Her past? Just a cracked mirror, shards of a life she couldn't piece together anymore. She wasn't the girl who cried herself to sleep, begging for mercy. No. She was someone else now. Someone who made the rules. Someone dangerous.
Lena remembered the day it all went down. Sixteen. A girl just walking home from school. A little too trusting. A little too naive. That's when they found her.
They didn't have names. Just numbers. The guys who ran the human trafficking trade—hidden in the shadows, making cash off misery. She didn't stand a chance. They grabbed her off the street, shoved her in a van like she was nothing.
For months, she was passed around like she was a toy. Each new "owner" worse than the last. Bruised, broken, never enough. Each night felt like a lifetime of pain. Her screams? They bounced off walls, echoing, but no one heard them. She was just another lost soul in a broken system.
But something in her didn't quit. Even when everything inside her screamed for death, there was a flicker.
Then the cops found her. Half-dead. Bloodied. Barely breathing. They pulled her out of the wreckage, thinking they were saving her. They didn't know the truth—she wasn't saved. She was just another empty body.
The traffickers? Gone. Vanished. No trace. No arrests. Nothing. Lena couldn't remember squat about them. The cops thought she was too far gone to even be credible. Some whispered she might've just given up and ended it herself. But Lena? She didn't give up.
She had a plan.
Years later, she stood on that balcony, knowing how the world worked. The mansion, the glittering skyline, it was all part of the game now. She wasn't scared anymore. She was the one pulling strings, making moves.
Her thoughts were cut short when she heard a shift behind her. A familiar presence. She didn't even need to turn around.
"Did you miss me?" The voice was low, rough—like velvet dipped in whiskey. His breath was hot against her neck as he leaned in, pressing his chest against her back.
Lena smirked, that cold, calculating smile she wore like armor. "Maybe," she said, her voice just enough to keep him hanging on. He didn't know what he was dealing with.
She could feel his hands wrap around her waist, his fingers tracing the line of her skin. But he wasn't the one who called the shots. No, he was just another pawn in her game.
She turned to face him, eyes locking onto his like a hunter staring down its prey. "What's the matter?" she whispered, fingers skimming over his chest. "You scared of me?"
The man's grin flickered. A second of hesitation. He didn't want to admit it, but he was. "Not at all," he said, his voice confident, too confident. "I like dangerous."
Lena didn't waste her time with words. Instead, she kissed him. Hard. Her mind wasn't on him. It was somewhere darker. Somewhere colder. The vengeance that had burned in her for years was still there, smoldering, waiting for its moment to catch fire.
Out on the streets, far from the glittering lights of her mansion, the city's underbelly was stirring. A van screeched to a halt in an alley. The back doors swung open, revealing three women, bound and gagged. Fear in their eyes, begging for help without a word.
The guy behind the wheel climbed out—his face a nightmare. A cigarette dangling from his lips, grinning like a psycho. He was soaked in madness.
"Perfect," he muttered, watching the women like they were cattle, just another job.
A man in a black suit approached. His expression was cold, distant. Clinical, like he was assessing the quality of merchandise, not human lives.
"How much?" the suited man asked. His voice was smooth, too smooth, like it didn't belong in the same world as these women. Everything had a price tag to him.
The psycho grinned wider. "Fifty grand," he said, eyes scanning the women like he was checking out new shoes. "They're good to go."
The suited man smiled, slow and calculating. "Fifty thousand, huh?" He stepped closer, licking his lips like he was about to devour them whole. "I'll take them."
And just like that, the deal was done. Cash changed hands. The women were shoved into the back of the van, their fates sealed. They were nothing more than cargo, bought and sold.
Back at the mansion, Lena was in a different world.
The man who had thought he'd won her over was now sprawled beside her, tangled in the sheets. He thought it'd be a night of pleasure. Of submission. Too bad he was wrong.
Lena didn't look at him. She just stared ahead, watching as he squirmed, clutching at his stomach, gasping for air.
"What's wrong?" she asked, voice sweet like poison. But her eyes? Cold. Empty.
The man's body arched, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. He tried to speak, but it was too late. His chest heaved once, twice, and then—nothing.
Lena didn't blink. She didn't flinch. She just watched as the life drained from him, like he was nothing more than a bug under her shoe.
Hours later, in the dark corners of the city, the trafficker who'd just sealed his deal with the devil opened a letter. He skimmed it, chuckling like it was some joke.
"She's back for revenge," it said in bold, black ink.
He tossed the letter aside, shaking his head. "Revenge?" he snorted. "Whatever."
But somewhere, deep inside, a little voice whispered. A flicker of doubt. He squashed it down fast. Didn't matter. The game was just getting started.
And in the city, in the shadows, a storm was brewing.