Lucian "Void" Varen stood in the middle of the rain-slicked alley, his posture relaxed, but his mind racing. The glow of neon signs painted streaks of crimson and violet onto the wet pavement. The deal was supposed to be simple—an exchange, nothing more. But now, with Crimson Fang soldiers closing in around him, their weapons barely concealed beneath heavy coats, he knew the truth. A trap. He should’ve expected it.
He counted at least fourteen of them, forming a perfect perimeter around him, blocking every possible escape route. They were silent, disciplined—unusual for Crimson Fangs. His mind worked through possibilities. Who would be leading this setup? Viktor "Redclaw" Lorne? The infamous king of the underworld himself? And then, they parted. Boots clicked against the pavement, slow, deliberate. commanding attention without a word. Lucian braced himself for Viktor. But instead—
She stepped into the light. And for the first time in years, Lucian felt something dangerously close to shock. The woman standing before him was nothing like the beast he had imagined. She was breathtakingly lethal—tall and statuesque, with a body sculpted for both speed and power. A cropped black leather jacket clung to her shoulders, layered over a tactical corset-like top, buckled and strapped with chrome fixtures. Her toned stomach was bare. Tight, high-waisted leather shorts clung to her hips, decorated with metallic emblems. Her platinum-white hair was cut in an asymmetric, razor-sharp style, long on one side, barely brushing her shoulder, while the other was shaved close to her scalp, revealing a series of sleek cybernetic implants fused into her skull. he had no idea who she was. How? How had he missed this? How had Crimson Fangs, the biggest gang in the city, undergone a power shift without his knowledge? Had Viktor been killed? Had he stepped down?Who the hell was she? She smirked. It was subtle, the kind of smirk that carried absolute confidence.