THE FIRST MOVE

The city never slept, but tonight, it whispered. In hushed voices. In cautious steps. As if it knew that something dangerous had shifted in the underworld.

Zephyr Draven stood in his dimly lit office, the skyline stretching endlessly behind him. The glass of whiskey in his hand remained untouched, his grip tightening around the crystal as his phone buzzed again. Another report. Another dead end.

His patience was razor-thin. For days, he had chased a phantom—someone who moved without a trace, someone bold enough to taunt him yet skilled enough to stay ahead. But now, the game has changed.

The woman behind them was bold—too bold. But before he could hunt her down, his phone vibrated in his coat pocket. A name flashed across the screen. Someone who never called unless it was something catastrophic.

He answered, his voice sharp. "Talk."

"Boss, we have a problem," the voice on the other end was tight with urgency. "One of your old cases… it's reached police. Someone reopened it."

Zephyr stopped mid-step, his grip on the phone tightening. The streetlights above cast a sharp glow over his face, but the ice in his veins was colder. That wasn't possible. He didn't leave loose ends. The evidence was destroyed, the witnesses erased. His cleanup was flawless.

Yet, somehow, a ghost had risen from its grave.

His smirk was slow and dangerous. "Who did it?"

Silence. Then—"We're still digging. But the investigators… they have

something real."

He cut the call and aggressively punched the glass off his table , shattering it on the white marble floor.

He didn't feel his hand bleeding until he heard the buzz of his phone again showing an unknown number on screen, he picked up the phone with his bleeding hand, the knuckles were bleeding.

His smirk returned. He already knew who it was.

He answered, bringing the phone to his ear but saying nothing.

A beat of silence. Then—her voice. Low, smooth, taunting.

"Trouble in paradise, Mr. Draven?"

His jaw clenched, though amusement flickered in his dark eyes. "You're getting bolder, sweetheart. Calling me directly now?"

A soft chuckle. "You sound... tense. Let me guess. A certain case has come back to haunt you?"

His grip on the phone tightened. "And you know this because?"

"Because, Zephyr," her voice dipped, laced with something he couldn't quite place, "I make it my business to know things that can bring kings to their knees."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken threats and a game neither was willing to lose.

Then she continued, her words whispering against his ear.

"Tick-tock, Mr. Draven. You're running out of time."

The call ended.

Within a few seconds his phone rang with a known number.

He answered '' what's now'' in a hoarse voice.

"It's in court." His man's voice was steady, but there was an edge—an unspoken warning beneath the surface. Zephyr's jaw clenched. Impossible. He had buried that case, erased every loose end, ensured that no trace remained. And yet, here it was—dragged into the light, standing before a judge. His voice dropped, cold and lethal. "How?" A beat of hesitation. Then—"Someone submitted evidence. Officially. The case has been reopened, and it's not just whispers anymore. It's loud. Public."

The air in the room turned razor-sharp. Zephyr exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the desk, calculated, methodical. Someone was challenging him. A fool with a death wish. His voice was quiet and dangerous.

"Find out who. The witness, the lawyer, the damn janitor if you have to. I want a name. Now."

He ends the call.

His fingers curled into a fist, blood dripping onto the desk, staining the crisp white papers beneath. "Who?" he murmured to himself. The single word was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

He exhaled sharply, pressing the intercom. "Emily. Now."

Within moments, Emily stepped in, her sharp eyes scanning his expression before she spoke. "Sir?"

Zephyr didn't look up right away. His fingers traced the rim of his glass, the faint clink filling the silence. "The case. It's in court." His voice was low, cold. "I want the best lawyer on it. Find out who's leading the prosecution, every witness they've lined up, every shred of evidence they think they have."

Emily's expression remained neutral, but he caught the subtle shift—the quick calculation in her mind. "Understood. Who do you want on defense?"

Zephyr gave emily a blunt look with a submissive voice ''the best in country'' with a break he commanded ''leave''

Zephyr sat in his dimly lit office, the weight of the night pressing against his shoulders. The case had surfaced in court—a ghost from his past clawing its way into the light. He needed control, fast.

A sharp knock. Then, the door opened, and one of his most trusted men, Damian, stepped in. His expression was grave, his movements precise. He knew better than to waste Zephyr's time.

"We need a lawyer," Damian said, voice clipped. "Someone who doesn't just defend but destroys. Someone who bends the law, breaks it if necessary."

Zephyr leaned forward, his gaze razor-sharp. "Then give me a name."

Damian didn't hesitate. "Ariena Adams."

For the first time in hours, Zephyr went still. He had heard the name before—whispers in the underworld, a lawyer who didn't just defend criminals but manipulated the law itself to erase their sins.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "The lawyer who never loses."

Damian gave a single nod. "She doesn't take cases unless they interest her. She's expensive. Unpredictable.She changes the law to prove her point in court ''

Zephyr chuckled darkly. "Then it's a good thing I don't take no for an answer."

He picked up his phone, dialing a number.

The phone rang twice before the line clicked open. Silence. Then, a voice—smooth, sharp, and entirely unfazed.

"Zephyr Draven," Ariena's tone held no warmth, only quiet calculation. "To what do I owe the honor?"

Zephyr leaned back in his chair, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "Miss Adams, I hear you have a reputation for making problems disappear."

A soft chuckle. "I prefer to call it… restructuring the law. But yes, I win. Always."

"Good," Zephyr murmured. "Because I have a case that needs to be buried. Completely."

There was a pause, a flicker of amusement in her voice when she spoke next. "Murder cases don't just vanish, Mr. Draven. They need to be… persuaded."

His grip tightened on the armrest. He didn't like games unless he was the one setting the rules. "And what persuades you?"

Another pause. Then, "The challenge. The thrill of untangling what should be impossible. And, of course, the right price."

Zephyr's smirk deepened. "You'll have whatever you want. Just tell me where and when."

"My office. Tomorrow. Noon. Be on time, Mr. Draven."

The call ended, but the game had only begun. Zephyr leaned back, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and warning. He didn't hire people. He owned them.

Zephyr murmured underneath

"Welcome to my world, Ms. Adams. Let's see if you can survive it."

📚"In a world where power bends the law, who will break first—Zephyr or Ariena?"

📚"She plays with the law. He plays with lives. But in this game, who is truly in control?"

Don't forget to vote guyss ❤️