I sat at Edward's massive oak desk, the dim light of the room illuminating the list of names in front of me. With a pen in hand, I drew a thick line through Mayor Reginald Alden, marking him off the list. One down. Nine to go.
My eyes wandered down to the next name under High-Ranking Law Enforcement Officials.
Police Chief Samuel Graves.
"Graves," I muttered to myself, tapping the pen on his name. The guy was a public hero, a man lauded for his so-called crusade against crime. But I knew better. Behind the accolades and the flashy press conferences, Graves was Cassandra's most valuable chess piece in law enforcement—a man who could make investigations disappear with a signature and turn a blind eye to whatever dirty work she needed done.
"This one's going to be tricky," I said aloud, glancing over at John, who sat nearby cleaning his weapon.
John raised an eyebrow. "Graves, huh? The 'tough-on-crime' poster boy? Man, I've been itching to knock that guy off his high horse."
I smirked. "We're not taking him down just yet. We need him to flip. If we can turn Graves, it'll throw Cassandra's entire operation into chaos."
John nodded, his hands steady as he reassembled his pistol. "So, what's the plan?"
"Simple. We infiltrate the precinct, confront him directly, and make him see things our way. Edward's providing us with fake police IDs and badges to get in."
John let out a low whistle. "Walking into the lion's den, huh? You sure about this?"
I locked eyes with him. "I've never been more sure."
The city's police headquarters stood like a fortress under the night sky, its imposing structure radiating authority and intimidation. The motto "To Protect and Serve" was engraved above the entrance. I couldn't help but smirk at the irony.
Outside, two officers leaned against a squad car, their voices carrying through the still night air as they shared a laugh. They were relaxed. Too relaxed.
John and I moved in like shadows. I crept up behind one officer and wrapped my arm around his neck, locking him in a chokehold. He struggled, his hands clawing at my arm, but I held firm until he went limp.
I glanced over to see John handle the second officer with his usual efficiency—a sharp punch to the gut, followed by a clean strike to the jaw. The guy crumpled to the ground without a sound.
"Still got it," John muttered, dragging the unconscious officer toward the side of the building.
We quickly swapped our clothes for their uniforms, adjusting the badges and hats to complete the disguise. I tugged at the stiff collar of the shirt, already feeling the weight of the charade.
"You ready?" I asked, glancing at John.
He gave me a cocky grin. "Born ready."
nside the precinct, the hum of activity filled the air. Officers bustled through the halls, some carrying stacks of files, others chatting over steaming cups of coffee. Dressed in our stolen uniforms, we moved through the chaos unnoticed.
The top floor was quieter, almost eerily so. At the end of a long, dimly lit hallway stood the door to Graves's office. I could see a faint light leaking from the edges.
I knocked firmly on the door.
"Come in," a voice called from inside.
John and I stepped into the room, closing the door behind us. Graves was seated at his desk, his sharp gray eyes immediately locking onto us. He didn't look surprised, which put me on edge.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his tone sharp. "And what the hell do you want?"
I stepped forward, keeping my posture calm but authoritative. "We're here to talk about Cassandra."
The mention of her name made his expression falter for the briefest moment, but he quickly recovered. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said coolly, leaning back in his chair.
I smirked. "Cut the act, Graves. We know everything—about the bribes, the cover-ups, the operations you've been running for her. You're not as untouchable as you think."
Graves leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "These are some heavy accusations. You got proof, or are you just here to waste my time?"
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a USB drive, placing it on his desk. "This has everything I need to destroy you. Bank statements, surveillance footage, witness testimonies. One press of a button, and your career is over. You'd better start cooperating."
Graves's jaw tightened. "If you think you can blackmail me, you're gravely mistaken. Cassandra will find you, and when she does, you'll regret ever crossing her."
John, leaning casually against the wall, chimed in. "You think Cassandra's going to save you? Newsflash, Chief—she doesn't do loyalty. The moment you're no longer useful, you're expendable."
Graves's eyes flickered with uncertainty, though he tried to mask it. "Even if I wanted to betray her, she'd kill my family. You can't protect them from her."
I leaned in, my voice steady and cold. "Your family isn't safe with her, Graves. Think about it. The moment she no longer needs you, she won't hesitate to tie up loose ends. You're disposable to her. But if you work with us, I can promise your family's safety."
Graves scoffed, but I could see the cracks forming in his armor. "And I'm supposed to trust you? You're just another player in this game."
"No," I said, my tone softening. "I'm the only one offering you a way out. Work with us, and you get to keep your life, your family, and your reputation—what's left of it, anyway. Refuse, and you'll lose everything. Including your life."
The room fell into a tense silence. Graves's eyes darted between me, John, and the USB drive. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the doubt and fear warring with his pride.
"What's it going to be, Chief?" I pressed.
He didn't answer. Instead, his hand clenched into a fist, and I knew I needed to take the next step.
I pulled out the Psyche Dominator, a sleek, futuristic-looking device that Hathor had recommended from the system shop.
Graves's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is that?"
"Insurance," I replied, activating the device.
A soft hum filled the room as the Psyche Dominator emitted an invisible pulse. Graves's defiance melted away, replaced by fear and vulnerability. His breathing quickened, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead as the device forced him to confront his deepest insecurities.
"Stop," he muttered, his voice shaking. "Make it stop."
I deactivated the device, leaning forward with an icy stare. "You're out of options, Graves. It's time to choose."
His shoulders slumped in defeat, his gaze dropping to the desk. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll help you. Just… keep my family out of this."
"Good choice," I said, pocketing the device. "From now on, you work for me. Betray me, and you'll wish Cassandra got to you first."
John smirked. "Welcome to the team, Chief."
As we left the precinct, the cool night air felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. John walked beside me, his grin cocky as ever.
"Think he'll hold up his end of the deal?" John asked.
"He doesn't have a choice," I replied. "Graves is ours now."
John nodded, glancing at the list of names in my hand. "So, who's next?"
I looked down at the remaining names, the city lights glittering in the distance. The war was far from over, but one by one, Cassandra's empire would crumble.
"One step at a time," I muttered, determination fueling every word.
The sound of heavy rain pattering against the windows filled Edward's study as one of my men, Harris, walked in. His boots were still muddy from the storm outside, but he didn't seem to care.
"Boss," Harris said, shaking the water from his coat. "We've got a lead on Raymond Chavez. He's at that old diner on 12th Street. The guy's been nursing a drink for the past hour."
"Good work," I said, folding my arms as I leaned against the desk. Chavez had been on my radar since we'd taken down Graves. The so-called lead investigator in the Organized Crime Unit was little more than a glorified middleman, taking bribes and leaking sensitive information to keep Cassandra's operations running smoothly.
John, who had been lounging in one of the chairs with his boots propped up on the desk, perked up. "Chavez, huh? The guy's slippery, but if we can corner him…"
"We will," I interrupted, already formulating a plan. "We'll lure him somewhere isolated where he won't have backup. Harris, have the squad plant some bait. Something that'll draw him out."
Harris nodded. "Got it. I'll have them set up a fake deal and leak it through his usual channels."
"Good," I said. "Tell them to use the warehouse on Ash Street. It's remote enough, and we can control the situation."
The warehouse was a cavernous, decrepit structure that loomed in the shadows of the industrial district. Broken windows and rusted beams gave it an eerie, abandoned look, but the flickering glow of a single overhead light in the center made it the perfect stage for what was to come.
John and I waited in the shadows, watching as Chavez pulled up in an old sedan. He stepped out, his trench coat shielding him from the rain as he lit a cigarette. The guy had a confident air about him, but there was a nervous edge to the way he glanced around the area.
"Classic," John whispered, smirking. "The old lone-wolf detective routine."
"Stay sharp," I replied. "He didn't get this far by being stupid."
As Chavez stepped into the warehouse, the sound of his footsteps echoed off the concrete walls. The squad, hidden in strategic positions, subtly funneled him toward the center of the room. By the time he realized something was off, it was too late.
"Evening, Detective," I said, stepping out of the shadows with John at my side.
Chavez froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun at his side.
"Ah, ah," John said, raising his own weapon. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Chavez's eyes darted between us, assessing the situation. He slowly raised his hands in mock surrender. "Well, this is cozy," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What do you boys want?"
"We want to talk," I said, keeping my voice calm but firm. "About Cassandra."
Chavez chuckled, shaking his head as he took a drag from his cigarette. "You think I'm gonna rat her out? You've got the wrong guy. I don't talk."
"I think you will," I replied, stepping closer. "Because if you don't, your days of running the Organized Crime Unit will be over. In fact, your days of breathing might be over too."
John cracked his knuckles for emphasis, but Chavez didn't flinch.
"Look," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I get it. You're trying to dismantle her little empire, and I respect that. But let's be real. You can't touch Cassandra. She's too well-connected. Even if I wanted to help you, it'd be suicide."
"Not if you're working with us," I said. "We've already taken down the mayor and the police chief. You really think Cassandra's as untouchable as you claim?"
Chavez's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Impressive, but that just means you've made yourself a bigger target. And I'm not in the habit of backing losing horses."
I leaned in, my voice lowering to a dangerous tone. "You've got two choices, Chavez. Work for us and get a chance at surviving this storm, or stay loyal to Cassandra and go down with her. Because make no mistake—she's going down."
He met my gaze, his eyes narrowing. "Or… we make a deal."
I arched an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"
"You let me keep my position and my cut of the pie," he said. "In exchange, I'll feed you intel on Cassandra's operations. Enough to keep you one step ahead of her."
John scoffed. "You think we're just gonna let you keep profiting off this mess?"
"Relax," Chavez said, his tone casual. "I'm just saying, I'm more valuable to you in my current role. You want Cassandra's empire to crumble, right? I can help you do that—from the inside."
I considered his words, but I didn't trust him for a second. This wasn't loyalty; it was survival. Chavez was playing both sides, and he'd turn on us the moment it suited him.
"Fine," I said, my tone cold. "We'll take your deal—for now. But don't think for a second that I trust you."
Chavez grinned. "Smart man. Now, if we're done here—"
"We're not," I interrupted, activating the system in my mind. Hathor, I need a safeguard. Something that'll keep Chavez in line.
Hathor's soothing voice chimed in. "I recommend the Loyalty Bind Serum. Once ingested, it creates a physical link to the subject's compliance. Should he betray you, he'll experience debilitating chest pain as a deterrent."
"Perfect," I thought. "How much?"
"$15,000 from your current balance," Hathor replied.
"Done. Deliver it to me now."
A vial materialized in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
"Drink this," I said, tossing it to Chavez.
He caught it, eyeing the liquid warily. "What the hell is this?"
"Insurance," I replied. "Drink it, or the deal's off."
Chavez hesitated, but the look in my eyes left no room for argument. He uncorked the vial and downed its contents in one gulp, grimacing at the taste.
"There," he said, wiping his mouth. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic," I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Welcome to the team, Detective."
As we left the warehouse, the rain had turned into a light drizzle, the air thick with the scent of wet concrete. John walked beside me, his hands shoved into his coat pockets.
"Think he'll play nice?" he asked.
"He doesn't have a choice," I replied. "Not anymore."
John smirked. "Good. One less headache to deal with."
I glanced at the list in my hand, the next name already burning in my mind. One step closer to taking down Cassandra. One step closer to victory.