The First Crack

Chapter 4

The night air in Orion was thick with tension. Damien stood on the rooftop of a high-rise building, the city stretched out beneath him in a sea of flickering lights. He could hear the distant hum of traffic, the occasional siren cutting through the quiet.

But his mind wasn't on the view.

It was on the war he had just begun.

Reed stood a few feet away, leaning against a concrete ledge, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Holt's one of the best in the business," he said, exhaling a trail of smoke. "If there's dirt on your uncle, he'll find it."

"He will," Damien agreed, his voice calm. "And when he does, I'll use it to make the first cut."

Reed chuckled. "You ever think about easing into things? Maybe, I don't know, playing nice for a little while?"

Damien glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Did the Xanders play nice when they threw my mother into the streets?"

Reed sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "Fair point."

Silence stretched between them for a moment before Damien spoke again.

"They'll retaliate soon."

Reed nodded. "Yeah. Question is, how?"

As if answering his question, Damien's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A single message from an unknown number flashed across it.

[They're moving. Be ready.]

Damien smirked. So it begins.

---

Xander Tower - Victor's Office

Victor Xander sat behind his massive oak desk, the city skyline behind him casting long shadows across the dimly lit room. A half-smoked cigar rested in a crystal ashtray beside a glass of expensive scotch.

Across from him sat Lucas Vance, head of security, and Gerard Lane, the board member in charge of intelligence.

Victor's expression was unreadable as he swirled his drink, listening to Gerard's report.

"Our investigation confirms it," Gerard said. "Damien Xander didn't just disappear—he thrived. He was recruited into the Black Phantom Unit seven years ago, spent years in classified operations. The man's a ghost. He has military training, government contacts, and from what we can tell, his own network of loyalists."

Victor took a slow sip of his drink. "Which means we can't afford to treat him like a reckless child seeking revenge."

Lucas, arms crossed, let out a sharp exhale. "So what? We sit back and let him take shots at us?"

Victor's fingers tapped against the wooden desk. "No. We hit back. Hard."

Lucas's lips curled into a grin. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Victor leaned forward slightly. "What's our best move?"

Lucas didn't hesitate. "Cut off his resources. He's funding this war somehow. We find out where the money's coming from and shut it down."

Gerard nodded. "He's already met with Adrian Holt. My sources tell me he's paying Holt for information on us."

Victor smirked. "Then we make sure Holt feeds him lies."

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "You want to turn Holt?"

"No," Victor said smoothly. "I want to set a trap. Holt gives Damien just enough real information to make him feel confident. But when he makes his move—we'll be waiting."

Lucas grinned. "Now that's more like it."

Victor lifted his glass in a silent toast to war.

---

Orion - Holt's Hideout

Adrian Holt had made a career out of knowing things before anyone else did. Information was a currency more valuable than gold in this city, and he was its wealthiest dealer.

But right now, as he sat at his desk, scrolling through encrypted files on his laptop, he felt something he hadn't in years.

Fear.

Because the things he was reading weren't just about the Xander family's corruption. They were about something much bigger.

Government contracts. Secret accounts. Deals with people that shouldn't exist on paper.

This wasn't just about a corporate empire. This was about power on a level that could shake the country.

Holt exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Shit."

A knock at the door made him jump slightly. He reached under his desk, gripping the small pistol he kept there before speaking.

"Who is it?"

A calm voice answered. "Damien Xander."

Holt's grip on the gun loosened slightly, but he still moved cautiously, unlocking the door.

The moment he pulled it open, Damien stepped inside, his presence instantly dominating the small office. Reed followed behind, shutting the door behind them.

"You got something for me?" Damien asked.

Holt ran a hand through his graying hair. "Yeah. But you might not like it."

Damien took a seat across from him, his obsidian eyes locked onto Holt's. "Try me."

Holt sighed, pulling a USB from his pocket and plugging it into his laptop. He turned the screen toward Damien.

"Victor isn't just a corporate tyrant. He's involved in some very, very illegal shit. Money laundering, government bribes, offshore accounts tied to arms deals."

Damien's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "Go on."

Holt clicked a few more times, opening another file. This one contained a list of coded transactions—dates, amounts, and destinations.

"See this?" Holt pointed to a specific entry. "This is a dummy corporation owned by Xander Conglomerate. On the surface, it's just an investment firm. But the money that moves through it? Dirty."

Damien leaned forward slightly. "Who's on the other end?"

Holt hesitated before clicking one final time. The name of an international weapons manufacturer popped up.

Reed let out a low whistle. "Well, shit."

Damien studied the screen for a long moment. Then he leaned back, crossing his arms. "This is useful."

Holt sighed. "Yeah, but there's a problem."

Damien's gaze snapped back to him. "What kind of problem?"

Holt hesitated. "Victor knows you're after this information."

Reed tensed. "What?"

Holt rubbed his temples. "He's setting you up. Feeding you just enough truth to keep you interested while waiting for you to make a move."

Damien's expression didn't change, but Reed saw the slight twitch in his jaw. A tell.

"So," Reed said, tilting his head, "we've got a trap within a trap. How do you want to play it, boss?"

Damien exhaled slowly. "We let them think it's working."

Holt frowned. "You mean… you'll take the bait?"

Damien's lips curled into a cold smirk. "No. I'll make them think I am."

He stood, adjusting his coat. "Let Victor prepare his little ambush. He thinks he knows how I operate."

Reed grinned. "But he doesn't."

"Exactly."

Damien turned toward the door. "Make sure all our pieces are in place. When they spring the trap…"

His smirk widened.

"We'll be the ones holding the knife."