PART ONE: THE KING AND HIS PHANTOM
BELVILLE CITY – THE HEART OF CHAOS
Belville was a city that thrived on sin.
A place where neon lights flickered over bloodstained streets, where money, power, and death walked hand in hand. Every alley reeked of corruption, every corner hid a predator, and every deal was signed in blood.
The city was alive in the worst way—pulsing, breathing, feeding off crime like a starving beast. The air was thick with the scent of gasoline, sweat, and something metallic—something that never quite washed away no matter how much it rained.
The police? Bought.
The government? Puppets.
The streets? A war zone.
Two crime syndicates ruled Belville: Fang and Hades. Their battle for dominance had turned the city into a graveyard. Gunshots in the night were as common as the hum of traffic, and nobody flinched at the sound of a body hitting the pavement. Death had long since lost its shock value.
No one was truly safe—least of all those who thought they could live outside the influence of the mafia.
And in the shadows of this chaos, one name was whispered with fear and reverence.
The Phantom.
Lia Morreti.
---
THE VIPER AND HIS PHANTOM
At the very top of a high-rise skyscraper, hidden behind layers of security, Alberto "The Viper" Durretti sat in his private parlor, staring down at the city he ruled. The office smelled of Cuban cigars and expensive whiskey, the very scent of power.
Alberto wasn't just a crime lord—he was a king. And Belville was his kingdom.
The room was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the neon-lit chaos below. From here, he could see everything—the streets, the blood, the empire he had built on bones and betrayal.
But tonight, his attention wasn't on the city.
It was on the woman standing at his side.
Lia.
She stood like a shadow made flesh—silent, unreadable, dangerous.
The Phantom of Belville.
She was every assassin's nightmare and every man's forbidden fantasy.
Dressed in a form-fitting black bodysuit, she moved with a lethal grace, as if even the air around her hesitated before touching her. Her long, raven-black hair fell in a waterfall down her back, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying—the face of a predator.
Her eyes, a piercing shade of emerald green, held no warmth, no softness. Just the cold, detached focus of a killer.
Strapped to her thighs were her custom twin katanas, their handles engraved with intricate markings—one for every life she had taken.
And there were many.
Alberto smirked as he took a slow drag from his cigar.
"You never disappoint me, Lia."
She didn't respond. She rarely did.
"You've always been my most valuable asset," he continued, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "The finest blade in my arsenal. And because of you… Fang still stands strong."
She knew what he wanted. Praise. Loyalty. Submission.
And she gave him none of it.
Still, he was pleased. He liked that about her.
Alberto set down his glass and leaned forward, his voice turning almost… affectionate. "Your loyalty will be rewarded. Whatever you need—consider it yours. And your little sister?"
For the first time, Lia's fingers twitched.
Her mask didn't slip, but something in her stance changed. Slight. Barely noticeable. But there.
Alberto smirked. He knew where to strike.
"I'll make sure she never has to worry about a thing," he said smoothly. "Her education, her safety, her future—it's taken care of."
A beat of silence.
Then, finally, a nod.
The only answer she ever gave.
Alberto grinned. "Good girl."
A woman stepped inside, bowing slightly. "Boss, the meeting is ready."
Alberto sighed, standing up. "Let's not keep our guests waiting."
He gestured for his inner circle to follow, but Lia stayed behind.
She always lingered in the shadows.
She preferred it that way.
---
THE PHANTOM AND HER RIVALS
The moment Alberto left, the tension in the room shifted.
Maya grinned and nudged Lia. "You hear that? He trusts you the most."
Lia didn't react. Trust was a fragile thing. A dangerous thing.
She allowed herself the ghost of a smile. "It means nothing. I just do my job."
Across the room, Lilith scoffed.
"Spare me the modesty," she said, her voice sharp with jealousy. "We all know Alberto favors you. The Phantom gets everything she wants."
Lia's green eyes flicked toward her—cold, unreadable.
Maya's smile disappeared. "Shut your mouth, Lilith. Lia earned that recognition."
Lilith took a slow step forward, her dark eyes gleaming with malice.
"Did she?" she murmured. "Or is it because she warms Alberto's bed?"
Silence.
A dangerous silence.
Lia didn't flinch. Didn't move.
But inside, something twisted.
She had heard this before.
The rumors. The whispers. The poisoned words meant to make her small.
They didn't know the truth.
No one did.
She had never let Alberto touch her. Never let any man claim ownership over her body. Not after what had been taken from her as a child.
But rumors didn't care about the truth.
Maya lunged forward. "Say that again, you jealous—"
Lia stopped her with a single hand.
Her voice was cold. Controlled. Deadly.
"Not worth it."
Lilith smirked, satisfied. She thought she had won something.
She hadn't.
Lia could kill her in three seconds.
But she didn't.
Not yet.
---
THE FIRST SHOT FIRED
A gunshot shattered the tension.
The distant sound of violence—echoing from the conference room.
Lia's instincts sharpened.
Something was wrong.
She reached for her katanas as she turned toward the balcony, scanning the city streets below.
Then she saw it.
Flashes of gunfire. Men in black storming the building.
A cold weight settled in her stomach.
The war had just begun.
PART TWO: BETRAYAL IN THE SHADOWS
THE FIRST BULLETS FLY
Gunfire.
Lia moved before she could think. Instinct. Precision. Survival.
She leapt onto the balcony railing, eyes locked on the chaos unfolding below. The conference room was in flames, bodies scattered like broken dolls. The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and burning fabric.
A raid.
No—an ambush.
Hades had made their move.
She caught sight of Alberto's men, scrambling to return fire, their polished suits now splattered with blood. Some fired blindly, others lay gasping, clutching wounds too deep to fix. Slaughter.
Lia clenched her jaw. Fang was losing.
Her eyes scanned the battlefield with a cold, calculating precision. How many? Where? Who was leading the attack?
Then—she saw him.
A figure in black, standing just beyond the burning wreckage of the conference room. Unshaken. Unbothered. Watching.
His presence was a whisper of death itself.
Ezra Kane.
The right-hand of Hades.
Lia exhaled slowly. This wasn't just a hit.
This was an execution.
Ezra had been waiting for this moment.
---
A HOUSE OF TRAITORS
Lia turned, her body already in motion.
She had seconds. Maybe less.
A sharp pain bloomed in her gut—not fear, but something colder.
Betrayal.
Someone let them in.
Hades had breached Alberto's headquarters, the most secure fortress in Belville. That meant one thing:
There was a traitor among them.
She gritted her teeth, her mind racing.
Who?
Maya? Impossible. Maya had been at her side.
Lilith? Too obvious. And not smart enough.
One of Alberto's lieutenants? Likely.
It didn't matter now.
She had to act.
Lia sprinted down the hallway, her steps silent, her mind locked into battle mode.
The building was turning into a graveyard.
Men she had trained with for years lay lifeless, their bodies crumpled in unnatural angles. The smell of blood grew stronger. The walls screamed with dying men.
Then—a voice.
Low. Cold. Deceptively calm.
"Going somewhere, Phantom?"
She froze.
And slowly, turned.
Ezra Kane stood at the end of the hallway.
Tall. Dressed in black from head to toe. A trench coat draped over his broad shoulders like a funeral shroud. His dark eyes pierced through her, his lips curling into a lazy, knowing smirk.
He held no weapon.
He didn't need one.
Lia's grip tightened around her katanas.
Ezra chuckled. "Always so serious."
He took a slow step forward, casual, as if they weren't standing in the middle of a massacre.
"You knew this was coming, didn't you?" His voice was smooth, taunting. "Alberto got too comfortable. Too powerful. And now? His kingdom crumbles."
Lia didn't answer.
She never played into their games.
Ezra sighed. "Still the quiet type."
Then, his smirk widened.
"But let's be honest, Lia. You don't care about Fang. You don't care about Alberto. You only care about her."
Lia stilled.
Her pulse remained steady, her face unreadable. But inside—rage.
Ezra knew exactly which wound to press.
Her sister.
He took another step. "Where do you think she is right now?"
Lia's fingers twitched on the hilt of her blades.
"Do you really think Alberto's promise was real?" Ezra's voice softened, almost gentle. Cruel. "Did you actually believe he'd keep her safe?"
Lia's breathing slowed.
Controlled. Measured.
"You're lying." Her voice was quiet. Deadly.
Ezra tilted his head. "Am I?"
He pulled something from his pocket.
A photo.
And tossed it onto the bloodstained floor.
Lia's heart stopped.
Her vision darkened.
It was her sister.
Bound. Bruised. Eyes swollen from crying.
A single message was scrawled on the back.
"You want her? Come get her."
Lia's blood turned to ice.
This was never about Fang.
This was about her.
Ezra Kane had her sister
A MONSTER UNLEASHED
A heartbeat.
That was all the warning Ezra had.
Then—Lia moved.
Faster than thought. Faster than light.
Her katanas sang through the air, polished steel flashing under the dim hallway lights.
Ezra barely dodged the first strike.
The second carved through the fabric of his coat, inches from his throat.
His smirk vanished.
Lia wasn't holding back.
She struck again, relentless, a storm of pure lethal intent. Every swing calculated, every movement a promise of death.
Ezra deflected with a blade of his own, steel clashing in the narrow corridor.
The sound of battle echoed through the burning building.
She forced him back. Step by step.
His confidence wavered.
He hadn't expected her to snap.
Hadn't expected the Phantom to become the monster she truly was.
Then—a second gunshot.
Pain exploded through her side.
Lia staggered, her breath hitching.
A sniper.
She turned, spotting a shadow on the rooftop opposite the window.
Ezra's backup.
Damn it.
Ezra moved in—too fast.
His blade slammed against hers, forcing her against the bloodstained wall.
"Lia," he murmured, voice almost regretful. "You can't win this."
Her fingers trembled around her katanas.
Not now. Not here.
She was bleeding. Outnumbered. Trapped.
Ezra pulled a pair of handcuffs from his coat. "Come quietly, and we'll let her live."
Lia's mind screamed trap.
But she didn't hesitate.
With a sharp exhale, she dropped low—and slashed.
Ezra barely had time to react before her blade tore through his side.
His smirk twisted into a grimace. Blood bloomed against his coat.
Lia didn't stop.
Ignoring the fire in her ribs, she grabbed a dagger from her belt and hurled it toward the sniper's window.
A grunt. A body falling.
Not dead—but injured.
Good enough.
Ezra lunged, but Lia was already moving.
She kicked off the wall, flipping over him in a blur of motion.
Her katana sliced down—Ezra twisted away just in time, but not fast enough. The blade carved a thin line across his jaw.
Blood dripped down his face.
His eyes burned with murderous amusement.
"You always were a wild one," he rasped.
Lia didn't wait for him to recover.
She ran.
---
ESCAPE INTO THE FLAMES
Lia tore through the burning corridors, ignoring the pain, ignoring the screams.
The building was collapsing.
Bodies lay everywhere—Fang's men. Hades' men.
None of them mattered.
She had one goal. One mission.
Her sister.
She vaulted over a balcony, landing hard onto the smoking pavement below.
A few of Hades' men spotted her—too late.
Her blade cut through them in seconds.
Ezra was still inside, but he wouldn't be for long.
Lia took off into the night, bloodied but unbroken.
She had work to do.
CHAPTER ONE: CITY OF BLOOD
PART THREE: THE HUNT BEGINS
---
A PHANTOM IN THE DARK
Lia ran.
Every step was agony.
Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her body fighting against the pain and exhaustion threatening to pull her under. Blood leaked from her side, warm and relentless, soaking through her suit.
But she couldn't stop.
Stopping meant death.
Behind her, the city pulsed with danger.
Gunshots in the distance.
Tires screeching.
Hades was hunting her.
They wouldn't stop until they had her dead or in chains.
She pushed forward, her legs trembling beneath her, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Somewhere above, a helicopter's searchlight sliced through the night, sweeping across the streets like the cold, watchful eye of a god.
She ducked into an alley, pressing herself against the damp brick wall, willing herself to disappear.
Her vision blurred.
Stay awake. Stay sharp.
She wasn't done yet.
A CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS
Neon signs flickered across the cracked pavement, their glow reflecting in the puddles left by the evening rain. The city smelled like gasoline, sweat, and sin.
The underbelly of Belville was alive.
A group of drunks stumbled out of a club, laughing too loudly, unaware of the assassin bleeding in the shadows just a few feet away.
A homeless man curled up near a dumpster, muttering to himself. He glanced up at her with dull, tired eyes—then looked away.
He knew better than to ask questions.
Lia moved like a ghost, slipping past oblivious strangers.
She spotted a car idling on the curb, its driver tapping impatiently on the wheel.
She could steal it.
But she wasn't at full strength. If they caught her before she even made it inside, it was over.
Too risky.
Her hands trembled. She pressed them against her wound, wincing at the pain.
She was losing too much blood.
She needed a place to hide.
Now.
A HOUSE IN THE DARKNESS
She forced herself down a quieter street. The towering skyscrapers gave way to smaller, more forgotten buildings—the kind that didn't have cameras or security guards.
Then, she saw it.
A modest house.
Not too big. Not too small.
No cameras. No barking dogs. No lights.
A house like this… it blended in. No one would look twice at it.
Lia staggered toward it, her boots dragging against the pavement.
If she could just get inside—**rest, stop the bleeding—**she might have a chance.
She reached the door, leaning against it for support. Her fingers were slick with blood as she reached for the handle.
Locked.
Of course.
She pulled out a thin metal pin from her suit and jammed it into the keyhole.
Her hands were shaking.
It took longer than usual.
Click.
The lock gave way.
Lia pushed inside, shutting the door behind her.
She had no idea whose house this was.
And she didn't care.
---
A STRANGER'S HOME
The house was quiet.
The air smelled like old books and cinnamon—a strange contrast to the blood dripping from her fingers.
She staggered forward, her boots leaving faint, red smudges on the wooden floor.
Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with papers, books, and stacks of assignments.
A desk sat in the corner, covered in red pens, half-empty coffee cups, and graded homework.
A teacher?
Lia barely registered the thought.
Her limbs were going numb.
She stumbled toward the couch, her legs giving out beneath her.
She collapsed onto the cushions, her body sinking into the warmth.
Blood seeped into the fabric.
For the first time in hours, she felt… safe.
Her eyelids drooped.
The room spun.
Then—darkness.
---
CHAPTER ONE: CITY OF BLOOD
PART FOUR: A MONDAY FROM HELL
(Hours Ago)
---
MONDAY—AGAIN
Kevin Langston woke up and groaned into his pillow.
Monday. Again.
The dreaded start of another week.
For a solid thirty seconds, he lay there, unmoving, staring at the ceiling as if willing it to collapse and put him out of his misery.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her.
His mother's picture stood on his nightstand, her warm brown eyes and soft smile forever frozen in time.
Kevin sighed, rolling onto his side to get a better look at her.
"Morning, Mum," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Still stuck in this hellhole of a city."
He grinned at his own misery, pushing himself up with great difficulty.
---
THE MORNING STRUGGLE
His modest two-bedroom apartment was barely lit by the weak morning sun filtering through the blinds. The small space smelled like coffee, cinnamon and old books.
The kitchen was a few steps away from his bed—an advantage of living in a place where you could touch your fridge while lying down.
Kevin dragged himself into the bathroom and flicked on the dim yellow light.
He winced.
His reflection looked like a man who had fought a bear in his sleep and lost.
Messy curls. Dark circles under his eyes. His white undershirt was crumpled like a tissue.
"Wow," he said to himself. "Looking fresh as ever."
With a heavy sigh, he splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, and stepped into the shower. The water took forever to warm up, and when it finally did—
BANG!
Something loud crashed outside, making him jolt.
Probably a garbage truck. Or a drug deal gone wrong.
Either way, not his problem.
---
THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS
Kevin shuffled into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
He was greeted by a half-empty carton of milk, an apple that had seen better days, and one lonely egg sitting in the corner.
"...Right."
He grabbed the egg and cracked it into a pan.
Within minutes, he had one sad scrambled egg and two slices of burnt toast.
Kevin took a bite and chewed slowly, expression blank.
"...Delicious," he said sarcastically to no one in particular.
After eating, he grabbed his worn-out satchel and stepped out into the gloomy Belville morning.
---
THE BUS RIDE FROM HELL
The bus stop was already crowded.
Kevin squeezed in beside a man loudly chewing gum. A student with tangled earphones bopped his head to music only he could hear.
When the bus arrived, Kevin climbed in and found a seat beside a middle-aged woman reading a thick novel.
He cleared his throat.
"Morning," he said politely.
She flipped a page.
No eye contact. No response.
Kevin raised an eyebrow. Alright then.
The ride was long, bumpy, and smelled like sweat and regret.
At least no one was screaming this time.
---
WESTWOOD ACADEMY: THE RICH KIDS' PRISON
Westwood Academy stood like a fortress in the middle of Belville.
The school was ridiculously expensive, a place where the students' shoes cost more than his entire apartment.
Its grand marble entrance, polished floors, and towering columns made it look more like a government building than a school.
Kevin walked through the gates, past security guards who now held rifles instead of batons.
Even a place this wealthy wasn't safe from the city's rising crime.
Inside, students chatted loudly, their expensive backpacks slung over their shoulders.
A few girls stood near the lockers, laughing at some viral video.
Two boys argued about which luxury car was faster.
Kevin rolled his eyes. Must be nice.
---
THE BOSS SUMMONS HIM
Kevin barely made it to the staff room before Lisa, a fellow teacher, smirked at him.
"Uh-oh. The dictator wants to see you."
Kevin blinked. "Already?"
Lisa nodded. "You must've pissed him off in your sleep."
Kevin sighed dramatically. "Great. Let me go face my executioner."
He walked down the hall and knocked on Mr. Hamilton's office door.
"Come in!"
Kevin stepped inside. The office smelled like bad air freshener and disappointment.
Mr. Hamilton sat behind his large desk, his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent light.
"Langston," he said, steepling his fingers. "Do you know why you're here?"
Kevin rubbed his chin. "Hmm. Did I finally win 'Teacher of the Year'?"
Hamilton's eye twitched.
"You were TWO MINUTES LATE to your last class on Friday," he said, as if announcing the end of the world.
Kevin stared.
"...Two minutes?"
"Two. Minutes."
Kevin exhaled slowly.
"Sir, I deeply apologize for my grave mistake. I—" he placed a hand on his chest dramatically "—will carry this shame for the rest of my days."
Hamilton nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, get back to work."
---
THE STAFFROOM GOSSIP SESSION
Kevin returned to the staffroom, where Lisa and Josh, another teacher, were waiting.
Josh grinned. "What did the overlord say?"
Kevin grabbed a coffee. "Apparently, being two minutes late is a crime against humanity."
Lisa snorted. "Next time, just sleep under your desk."
They all laughed, but then Lisa lowered her voice.
"Did you hear about the bodies near the subway?"
Kevin frowned. "Who was it this time?"
Josh sighed. "Hades. Some poor guy and his girlfriend. Shot point-blank."
Kevin clenched his jaw.
Belville was getting worse by the day.
COMING HOME TO A NIGHTMARE
Kevin took the bus home, stepping off onto his quiet street.
The evening air was thick with humidity, and an eerie silence hung over the area.
His modest two-bedroom house stood at the end of the road, small but homey.
As he approached, a strange feeling crawled up his spine.
His front door was shut from inside.
His heart pounded.
Is someone in?
He pushed and pushed then he kicked the door open.
He took a slow step inside.
A metallic scent hit him immediately.
His stomach twisted.
And then—
His eyes landed on her.
A woman. Unconscious. Bleeding.
On his couch.
His brain froze.
Blood stained her clothes, pooling onto the fabric.
His breath caught in his throat.
His mouth opened before he could stop himself.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
TO BE CONTINUED..j