The Black Reign

My mansion was a fortress masquerading as opulence, perched on the edge of a private cliff where the land surrendered to the restless sea. A place built from dark stone, towering over the world like a silent, unshakable sentinel. It was a contradiction of old-world sophistication and modern ruthlessness—just like me.

The wrought-iron gates at the entrance stood tall, guarded at all hours. Beyond them, a winding driveway stretched through carefully manicured gardens, though those weren't for pleasure. Statues of mythological beasts lurked in the hedges, their stone eyes catching the glow of discreet lighting that cast eerie shadows when night fell.

Three stories of dark stone, sleek glass, and intricate ironwork made up the mansion itself, topped with a slate roof and massive windows that drank in the ocean view. The centerpiece? An ornate wooden door, its carvings telling a story only I understood: wolves and foxes, some entwined, some locked in battle. A quiet tribute to the past I never spoke of.

Inside, it was even more spectacular. Dark oak floors stretched beneath chandeliers dripping in crystal. The walls bore paintings, each piece chosen with careful deliberation. A library where shelves climbed to the ceiling. A dining room with a bespoke marble table and gold-plated cutlery. Wealth, taste, power—everything in its place.

But my favorite space was my study. A kingdom within my kingdom. The massive mahogany desk was pristine, holding only what mattered: a sleek laptop, a tumbler of whiskey, and a single antique dagger mounted on a stand. Behind the desk, my chair stood tall, facing a window where the ocean crashed against the rocks below. The sound was steady, relentless. Like me.

That's where I was when the notification came.

The soft chime of my encrypted phone sliced through the stillness. I glanced down, the amber liquid in my glass swirling as I tilted it absentmindedly. The message was from Vivienne. Vivienne was my trusted personal assistant. 

I know what you're thinking: How do you trust someone in such a world? The answer is really simple - You just don't.

But for Vivienne - She proved her loyalty in ways you could not believe. 

The message read:

"The Black Reign wants to talk, tonight. Claims they're ready to negotiate territory lines. Location: warehouse on Pier 17. They're waiting for confirmation."

Negotiation. 

The word tasted bitter. Gangs didn't request talks unless they were desperate—or thought they had an advantage. Either way, it was an opportunity. This particular crew had landed from nowhere and they had already taken over seven warehouses. They were rising- and rising quickly. They were trouble…a fire that needed to be put out.

I didn't hesitate. My response was a single word: Confirmed.

The glass met the desk with a quiet clink as I stood. The leather chair creaked under my weight. "Guess successful people don't have time to rest,"I mumbled. 

I was still worn out from the previous fight, but what could you do?

A few minutes later, Vivienne appeared at the door, her stance relaxed but her eyes glimmering with mischief, "We heading to the warehouse?"

A small smile pulled at my lips. "Prep the men. Tell them to expect a show. If 'The Black Reign' is smart, they'll bring everything they've got. If not..." My voice dipped lower, laced with quiet menace. "It'll be over before it starts."

She responded with a brief nod, turned her heel, and vanished down the hall. I turned back to the window, hands in my pockets, watching the waves tear against the cliffs. The storm outside matched the one building inside me.

People really need a reminder of who runs this city.

***

The warehouse loomed ahead, a skeletal ruin of steel beams and cracked concrete. The flickering fluorescent lights painted erratic shadows along the walls. 

My men stood beside me, silent. Weapons weren't out, but the readiness was there, coiled tight.

Second time tonight.

Vivienne lingered close, her fingers brushing my arm. "So, boss," she murmured, voice laced with amusement, "are we letting The Black Reign talk their way out of this? Seems like a waste of time."

I didn't look at her. My gaze remained fixed on the entrance. "No one asked you. They want to talk. We'll let them talk. For a little while."

Vivienne stepped closer, voice dropping to something darker, more suggestive. "If you need someone to handle this, I'm more than capable."

Here we go again. 

"I've made it clear to you Vivienne - keep it professional," I muttered.

I didn't bite. My focus stayed on the door, listening to the creak of rusted hinges as it opened.

The Black Reign had arrived.

The crew entered, but it was the figure at the front that caught my attention. She stepped out of the shadows like she owned the damn place, her presence cutting through the tension before she even spoke.

Dark wavy hair. Cold, piercing blue eyes. Confidence in every measured step. Dressed in black—practical, but elegant. Despite her size, there was no mistaking the power in the way she carried herself. She moved like someone used to dominance.

My lips curled into a smirk. Well, this was unexpected.

"Didn't think the leader of The Black Reign would turn out to be a lady," I drawled, letting the mockery drip from my voice.

A slight, smile tugged at her lips. "And I didn't think you'd be so predictable."

The room thickened with tension. My men bristled, but I raised a hand, stopping them. My gaze locked onto hers, assessing. "You've got quite the reputation," I said. "But reputation only goes so far. Let's see if you're as good at talking as you are at keeping secrets."

She stepped forward. "We're here to settle the territory dispute. There's no need for unnecessary bloodshed. Let's come to an agreement and be done with it."

"An agreement?" I echoed, feigning surprise. "How cute. But I'm afraid you're wasting your time. This territory is mine. I don't share."

She didn't blink. "Then we don't have much to discuss."

My smirk widened. "Hilarious. I was going to say the same."

I gave a subtle nod.

The attack came without warning.

The Black Reign's men surged forward, weapons drawn. My men responded in kind, and chaos erupted.

I stepped back, hands in my pockets, eyes fixed on her. I wanted to see how she handled this.

She moved like water—fluid, precise, deadly. A knife attack was disarmed in seconds. A man twice her size crumpled from a single brutal strike. A third attacker lunged; she took him down before he could blink. Each movement was measured and lethal.

"Damn," Vivienne muttered beside me. "She's good."

I tilted my head. "Better than you?"

Vivienne shot me a glare but didn't answer.

The fight ended, bodies groaning on the ground. She stood, breathing steady, eyes locked onto mine.

I clapped, slow and deliberate. "Impressive."

She closed the distance between us in a flash. A knife at my throat before I could react. Vivienne moved- ready to pounce on her, but I stopped her with a hand.

"Go ahead, do it," I was mocking her.

"You think this is a game?" she hissed, voice low and menacing.

I smirked. "Everything's a game. The trick is knowing when to play."

She let out a low, bitter chuckle. "You're going to regret stepping on my shoe. The war is on. And I don't lose."

I met her gaze, unwavering. "We'll see about that."

She stepped back, blade vanishing as she turned away. "Teach your men to fight better," she said. "Next time, I won't stop at them."

Goddamn…