The city never slept, but at night, it whispered its darkest secrets.
Nathaniel Cross knew this better than anyone. From his penthouse, he could see the neon lights bleeding into the smog, hear the distant hum of traffic, and feel the weight of a world that wanted him dead.
He took a slow sip of whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. He had spent years building his empire, years clawing his way to the top. Now, it felt like someone was pulling him back down.
His gaze shifted to his desk, where a single piece of paper lay beneath the glow of his desk lamp.
"Your fortune was built on secrets. It's time to pay the price."
No signature. No return address. Just those chilling words.
At first, he had dismissed it as an empty threat. But then, the world around him started to shift.
His head of security disappeared. No calls, no messages. Just gone.
The next day, an attempted cyberattack nearly breached his financial records. Then, last night, an SUV tried to ram his car off the road—no plates, no trace.
Nathaniel wasn't paranoid. He was careful. There was a difference.
He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts, stopping at a name he hadn't called in months.
Dante.
A man who lived in the shadows, who knew the city's secrets better than anyone.
Nathaniel pressed dial. The call connected after one ring.
"Cross."
"You got my message?" Nathaniel asked, his voice steady.
"Yeah. And you're not gonna like what I found."
"Tell me."
A pause. Then Dante said, "Whoever's after you, they're professionals. No digital footprints. No loose ends. These aren't small-time crooks. This is a hit, Nathaniel. A serious one."
Nathaniel tightened his grip on the glass. "Who's paying for it?"
"Still digging. But listen to me—this isn't the kind of enemy you fight in boardrooms. You need to disappear for a while."
Nathaniel let out a humorless laugh. Disappear? He wasn't the kind of man who ran.
"I don't disappear, Dante. I eliminate threats."
"Then you better move fast, because the streets are talking. And when the streets talk, people disappear."
The line went dead.
Nathaniel stared at his reflection in the window. Someone wanted him gone.
The problem was, they weren't the only ones who knew how to play this game.
Two Hours Later
Nathaniel stepped into Club Crimson, an underground lounge where power and money whispered in the dark. He wasn't here for drinks. He was here for answers.
The club pulsed with deep bass, red and blue neon lights casting eerie shadows against velvet walls. Nathaniel ignored the flirtatious glances thrown his way as he made his way to the VIP section.
Inside, a man waited for him.
Victor Kane. A kingpin of the underworld, a broker of secrets. If anyone knew who wanted Nathaniel dead, it was him.
Nathaniel sat across from Victor, who smirked and leaned back in his leather chair.
"Didn't think I'd see you here, Cross."
"You know why I'm here."
Victor swirled his whiskey. "Word is, someone's got a contract on your head. And not just any contract—one placed with The Anonymous."
Nathaniel felt a slow, burning anger settle in his chest. He had heard of The Anonymous before. They were a whisper in the dark, an organization of elite assassins, untouchable, untraceable. If they took a job, they finished it.
"Someone wants you gone bad enough to pay top dollar," Victor continued. "And if The Anonymous has accepted the job… you're already living on borrowed time."
Nathaniel stayed silent, his mind calculating his next move.
"You've got two choices, Cross," Victor said, leaning forward. "Run, or strike first."
Nathaniel met his gaze. "I don't run."
Victor smirked. "Didn't think so. In that case… I'd watch your back. The streets have eyes. And your time is running out."
Nathaniel stood, buttoning his suit jacket. He had come here looking for answers. What he had found was a death sentence.
As he stepped out into the neon-lit streets, Nathaniel knew one thing for sure.
If The Anonymous was coming for him, he would burn them first.
He walked to his car, his mind racing through options. He needed more information. He needed to move before they did.
Then—
BANG!
A bullet shattered the window beside him.
Nathaniel dove to the ground, instincts kicking in just in time.
Another shot.
He rolled behind his car for cover, heart pounding, eyes scanning the rooftops. The sniper was close.
Too close.
The street erupted into chaos. Tires screeched as a blacked-out SUV peeled away from the curb, disappearing into the night. Nathaniel's mind worked fast. The attack wasn't random.
They were watching him. Studying him. Waiting for the perfect moment.
Nathaniel's pulse steadied. They had made one mistake.
They had failed.
And he never let an enemy walk away.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his phone and hit a single button.
"Get me Dante. Now."
He was done playing defense.