The Edge of Control

Power is an illusion—one wrong move, and it shatters. 

Adrian...

The morning air was crisp, but I barely noticed as I stepped out of the estate, my mind clouded with the events of last night. Celeste had left without hesitation, her usual confidence in place,but something about her reaction gnawed me. The hesitation in her eyes. The way her fingers flexed ever so slightly before she turned away.

She was hiding something. And I was going to find out what.

Dante was already waiting by the car, his posture rigid. "Everything is set for today. Security is doubled. The meeting will take place at the warehouse on the east docks."

I slid into the backseat, my expression same as usaul,unreadable. "And Celeste?"

"She's already on her way." Dante hesitated. "You sure about this, Boss? If she's playing us—"

"Then I'll handle it," I cut in, my tone final. "She's coming because I want her there. If she's a liability, I'll know soon enough."

Dante nodded at my words but didn't look convinced. I understood his hesitation. Trust was a rare currency in our world, and Celeste had done little to earn it. Yet, despite my instincts screaming at me to keep her at a distance, but I find myself drawn in.

A weakness.

I clench my jaw. No. She would not be my weakness.

The warehouse was cold, the scent of saltwater and oil thick in the air. I stepped out of the car, scanning the area with my sharp gaze. My men were already in position, weapons hidden but ready.

Celeste stood near the entrance, arms crossed, her face impassive as I approached. She was always composed, always calculating. But I was watching now—closely.

"You're early," I remarked.

She lifted a brow. "You wanted me here. I don't keep people waiting."

I smirked, though my amusement didn't reach my eyes. "Let's hope you keep that attitude."

Before she could respond, the doors to the warehouse creaked open. Inside, tied to a chair, was a man with blood staining his white shirt. One of my drivers.

A traitor.

I approached slowly, my footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space. "You've been busy, haven't you?" I murmured.

The man coughed, lifting his head weakly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Russo."

I crouched beside him, tilting my head. "You tipped them off. You thought you could sell me out and walk away?"

The traitor swallowed hard but didn't respond. I sighed and straightened, pulling out my gun. "You know what I do to people who betray me."

Celeste shifted slightly, drawing my attention. Her face remained unreadable, but I could sense it—that small moment of tension. She didn't approve.

Interesting.

I smirked, but my grip on the gun remained steady. "What do you think, Ogonëk? What should I do with him?"

She met my gaze, unwavering. "That depends. Do you want information, or do you just want to send a message?"

 I chuckled, tucking the gun back into my holster. "Clever. But you're avoiding the question."

Celeste stepped closer, her voice smooth. "If he betrayed you, he's already dead. But if he knows something useful, you should make sure he talks first."

I studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Dante. Make him talk."

As Dante moved forward, I kept my focus on Celeste. She was playing the game well. Too well.

And I was going to find out why.