left her mark.

Damien

The city lights cast a pale glow over the long, empty road stretching ahead of us. The occasional car sped by, its headlights slicing through the darkness before vanishing into the void. The highway seemed to stretch endlessly, a narrow path of asphalt cutting through the stillness as we raced toward the distant mountain range. I couldn't believe I was doing this—rushing to play hero for a mafia queen of all people. Worse, I had postponed my arrival at the De Lucas for this. I tightened my grip on the armrest, suppressing the irritation that bubbled just beneath the surface.

"How long until we get there?" I asked Mike, my tone sharp and impatient.

"Ten minutes," he said grimly, his eyes fixed on the road like he was staring down a loaded gun.

His unease was palpable, and I couldn't resist poking at it. "And why are you so worried?" I asked, side-eyeing him. He looked like he was about to meet his own executioner. "You're acting nervous, like the one in trouble with the Talons is your grandmother or something."

"Are you kidding me?" he snapped, his voice rising an octave. "Your wife is in danger! The Talons aren't a group you mess with and walk away from. Once they've targeted you, you're as good as done!"

I raised a brow at his outburst, amused by the rare glimpse of emotion from him. "Given your usual disinterest in anything crime-related unless it directly involves helping me, I'm impressed. Clearly, they've made a name for themselves," I said dryly, leaning back in my seat.

Mike's reaction didn't waver, his anxiety bleeding into the air. "They're not just thugs," he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "They're organized. Not big enough to call themselves a mafia, but enough to have a presence. They've been distributing that new drug, Crystalz, all over the entertainment industry. It's been a hot topic for months—high euphoria, addictive as hell."

I listened in silence, unimpressed. Drugs, entertainment, petty crimes. They were hardly worth my attention. But even small players could catch my eye if they crossed certain lines. "Not my problem," I said coldly, cutting him off before he could continue his rant. "My only concern is finding out where their boss is. Cleopatra can handle her own people. We won't act unless absolutely necessary."

Mike shot me a look that was equal parts disbelief and exasperation. "Are you serious right now? The Talons are—"

"I don't care," I interrupted, my voice sharper than before. "What I care about is their involvement in human trafficking and the illegal adoption ring. That's what makes them my problem. Not Cleopatra, not her people, and definitely not their little drug operation."

Mike fell silent, though his hands tightened on the wheel. The tension in the car was almost tangible, but I didn't care. The Talons might've built a reputation, but they were nothing compared to the underworld I was accustomed to. Unlike the mafia, where power was a spectacle, paraded and flaunted for all to see, the Talons operated from the shadows, keeping their leader a mystery. It was smart. Cowardly, but smart.

"Even so," Mike muttered, his voice quieter now, "could you at least pretend to care? Right now, you're about as comforting as a brick wall."

I glanced at him, unbothered. "Would you rather walk than to be in the same car as this "brick wall" ?" I asked flatly.

He scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. "You know I'm right."

I didn't bother responding. Instead, I turned my attention to the GPS tracker, its blinking light marking Cleopatra's location. We were closing in. The car was silent except for the hum of the engine as we sped toward the mountains.

When we finally arrived, Mike pulled off the road, stopping the car at a distance. The scene ahead was chaotic yet eerily organized. Cars were parked in a circular formation around the base of the mountain. Above, a narrow footpath wound up the rocky slope. I scanned the area, taking in every detail.

Then I saw it—a body tumbling down the mountain, limbs flailing like a broken marionette before it hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood and flesh splattered across the pavement, the crimson staining the night. Mike turned pale, his hand flying to his mouth as he gagged.

"What a scene," I muttered, my gaze following the trail of destruction as I traced it back up the mountain. The faint silhouette of Cleopatra stood at the edge, her figure outlined against the night sky. She was calm, almost regal, despite the chaos around her.

"She doesn't need saving," I added with a hint of amusement. "The person you were so worried about just threw a grown man twice her size off a cliff."

Mike groaned, his head dropping against the steering wheel. "How are you so casual about this? That was a person!"

"And now it's a problem for theit cleanup crew," I said, shrugging. "You're acting like this is your first day on the job."

He didn't respond, too busy trying not to vomit. I allowed myself a small chuckle at his expense before stepping out of the car. The cool night air hit me like a slap, sharp and invigorating. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the breeze, mingling with the earthy aroma of the mountains.

I took a moment to assess the scene. The Talons had underestimated Cleopatra. That much was clear. Their mistake would cost them dearly, and while their downfall didn't concern me, their leader's whereabouts did. I needed answers, and Cleopatra might just be the key to getting them.

"Stay here," I told Mike, my voice firm. He looked at me like he wanted to argue but thought better of it, nodding instead.

As I approached the mountain's base, the faint sound of voices carried through the air. Orders were being barked, guns cocking as the Talons scrambled to regain control. Cleopatra's people were nowhere to be seen, but I knew better than to assume she was alone. She never was.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing, watching as another body was dragged into the shadows. The Talons were efficient, but not enough to escape unscathed. Cleopatra had left her mark. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive. It was the kind of quiet that signaled something was about to break.

A low whistle escaped my lips as I leaned against a nearby tree, my eyes fixed on the mountain's peak. "She's got this under control," I said to myself, a hint of admiration creeping into my otherwise detached tone.

For all her theatrics and ruthless methods, Cleopatra knew how to handle herself. And as much as I hated to admit it, watching her work was almost… entertaining.