Ch.13: Introduction of the Rival

I walked out of the prison gates into the blinding morning sun.

It felt wrong. I should be in a cell. I should be answering questions about poison and offshore accounts.

But Julian was right. The moment the arraignment began, Judge Halloway set bail at five million credits, a smirk on his face. And before the gavel even hit the wood, the clerk announced that the funds had cleared.

Sterling looked like he had swallowed a razor blade.

I hailed a taxi, not to my apartment—that was a crime scene—but to a cheap motel on the outskirts of the district. I needed a base of operations. I needed a shower. And I needed a dress.

Tonight was the Vane Global Charity Ball. And I wasn't just crashing it. I was detonating it.

I spent the afternoon prepping. I bought a burner phone. I dyed my hair back to its natural black in the motel sink, washing away the cheap dye I had used to look more "professional" for the Firm. I bought a second-hand evening gown from a consignment shop—red silk, slightly torn at the hem, but I fixed it with a stapler.

It wasn't perfect. But it was armor.

At 7:00 PM, I was in the back of another taxi, watching the Spire get closer. The Vane Tower pierced the clouds, a needle of glass and light.

My phone buzzed.

**Unknown Number:** *They know you made bail. Security is tripled. Don't use the front door.*

I stared at the screen. It wasn't Julian. He was in a cell without a signal.

**Me:** *Who is this?*

**Unknown Number:** *Someone who doesn't want you dead yet. Service entrance. 3rd Loading Dock. The code is 9942.*

I didn't trust it. But I didn't have a choice.

I redirected the taxi.

The loading dock was a cavern of concrete and exhaust fumes. Delivery trucks were unloading crates of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. I slipped out of the taxi, pulling my coat tight around my red dress.

I found the keypad. 9-9-4-2.

Click. The heavy steel door swung open.

I stepped into a long, dimly lit corridor. It smelled of ozone and cheap cleaning solution.

"You're late."

I spun around, my hand going to the scalpel I still carried in my clutch.

Leaning against the wall, smoking a thin, black cigarette, was a woman.

She was striking. Tall, with skin like polished obsidian and hair shaved close to her skull on one side, cascading in silver braids on the other. She wore a tuxedo that fit her like a second skin.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice echoing in the empty hall.

"My name is Kael," she said, exhaling a plume of blue smoke. "And if you go up there with that shard in your pocket, Sterling's scanners will pick it up before you even get to the coat check."

I took a step back. "You work for him."

"I work for the Firm," Kael corrected, pushing off the wall. She moved with a fluid, dangerous grace. "I fix things. Problems. Loose ends."

"Am I a loose end?"

"You're a complication," she said. "Sterling wants you arrested. I think that's a waste of potential."

She walked toward me. I tensed, ready to fight.

"Relax, Counselor," she drawled. "If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have made it past the door."

She stopped a few feet away, looking me up and down. Her eyes were unnatural—cybernetic implants that swirled with data streams.

"That dress is a disaster," she noted. "But the rage? The rage is good. It suits you."

"Why did you give me the code?" I asked.

"Because I want to see what happens," Kael said. "Sterling is getting sloppy. He's making emotional decisions. Framing you? That was personal. And personal is bad for business."

She reached into her pocket. I flinched.

She pulled out a small, metallic pouch. A Faraday bag.

"Put the shard in this," she said, tossing it to me. "It'll block the scanners."

I caught it. "Why help me?"

"I'm not helping you," she said, a cruel smile touching her lips. "I'm betting on the chaos. If you take Sterling down, my rates go up. If he kills you, I get paid to clean up the mess. Win-win."

I put the shard in the bag and slipped it into my dress.

"One question," I said. "Before I go up there."

"Make it quick."

"You fix things for the Firm," I said. "Did you fix my brother?"

Kael's smile vanished. The data in her eyes swirled faster, turning a violent shade of red.

"I don't do wet work, Harper. I clean up after it."

She took a step closer, invading my personal space. She smelled of smoke and gunpowder.

"But I knew Liam," she said softly. "Better than you did."

"What does that mean?"

"He wasn't the saint you think he was," Kael whispered. "He wasn't just a delivery boy. He was a courier. And he wasn't delivering pizza."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "Ask yourself why a kid with two jobs had a encrypted server in his closet. Ask yourself why he was meeting with Julian Vane's head of security three days before he died."

I froze.

"He... he knew Julian?"

"Everyone is connected in the Circuit," Kael said, stepping back. "Sterling used him. Mia used him. And now you're using his corpse as a shield."

She gestured to the service elevator at the end of the hall.

"Go on, Harper. Go play the hero. Just remember... in this city, the only difference between a hero and a villain is who survives the night."

I looked at her, then at the elevator.

"He wasn't a saint, Harper," she called out as I walked away. "You'll find that out soon enough."

I hit the call button. The doors opened.

I stepped inside, my heart pounding against the cold metal of the shard in my pocket.

Kael was trying to rattle me. She was trying to plant doubt.

But as the elevator rose, shooting up toward the penthouse ballroom, one thought stuck in my mind like a splinter.

*Liam was meeting with Julian's security.*

Why?

The doors opened.

The noise hit me first. The roar of conversation, the clinking of crystal, the swell of a string quartet. Then the light. Chandeliers dripping with diamonds.

I stepped out into the Vane Global Charity Ball.

I scanned the room. Hundreds of people. The elite of the Obsidian Circuit.

And there, in the center of the room, standing on a raised platform under a spotlight, was my sister.

Mia.

She was wearing a white dress. She looked angelic. She looked heartbroken. She was holding a microphone, tears streaming down her face.

"...my brother was the best of us," she sobbed into the mic. "And the monster who took him deserves to rot."

Sterling stood next to her, his hand on her shoulder, looking like a grieving father figure.

I felt the bile rise in my throat.

I gripped the shard in my pocket.

*Showtime.*