A few days later, Titan Studios showed no signs of slowing down.
Alex moved from one conference room to another, juggling calls, interviews, and promotional shoots for The Blind Side. The hallway outside Studio 4 buzzed with constant movement. Assistants hurried past with tablets in hand, PR managers exchanged quick updates in low voices, and camera crews prepared for the next press segment. Posters for the film lined the walls, and every few minutes, someone stopped Alex for a quick approval or signature.
Under normal circumstances, Halle would have been beside him for the promotion. But her pregnancy had changed everything. She remained at home under strict instructions from doctors, leaving Alex to carry the weight of the campaign alone.
He stepped into a quieter corner, phone pressed to his ear as he adjusted his sleeve.
"Let's move the Boston interview to tomorrow morning," he said, looking at the tablet Rachel handed him. "I won't make it tonight. And let Sandra know I'll join her for the Los Angeles segment virtually."
Rachel stood beside him, calm and precise as ever. "You have a press conference in fifteen minutes," she said. "After that, there's a call with the Maleficent art department."
Alex gave a short nod. "What about the numbers for The Blind Side?"
"Advance bookings are strong," Rachel replied. "The critics' screening is tonight, and the early response has been positive."
Alex exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Good. Let's keep that momentum going."
Rachel studied him for a moment. He looked tired, even if he refused to acknowledge it. Between the success of Spider-Man, the ongoing promotion for The Blind Side, pre-production on Maleficent, podcast planning, and everything happening in his personal life, his schedule had become relentless.
Before she could say anything, her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She glanced at the screen.
Marcus.
"You," she grabbed Alex's arm. "Take five minutes break. Just sit and rest your eyes for a moment. I'll come and get you for the conference."
Alex sighed as he took a deep breath, "Yeah, okay," he nodded. "I could use a little shut eye." He went straight to the living quarters and entered one of the bedrooms before slumping down on the bed. 'Haaa... Even with my endurance and stamina, I can't do shit about my mental exhaustion. Might as well take a quick nap."
Rachen stepped into an empty office. She closed the door behind her and answered the call.
"Go ahead," Rachel said.
Marcus's voice came through. "You were right to be concerned about the invitation."
Rachel's expression sharpened slightly. "Tell me what you found."
There was a brief pause before he answered. "The initials DD point to Diddy."
Rachel remained still, though her eyes narrowed slightly. "Keep talking."
"He hosts private events," Marcus continued. "Highly exclusive. New talent gets invited. Models, actors, influencers. On the surface, everything looks like a high-end party, but once people are inside, the environment changes."
Rachel leaned lightly against the desk, her fingers resting against the edge. "In what way?"
"Drugs are introduced," Marcus said. "Pressure follows. Then leverage. Some attendees leave without incident, but others get pulled deeper in. There are cases involving coercion and blackmail."
Rachel's gaze hardened. "And the ones who do not cooperate?"
Marcus did not hesitate. "They disappear from the circle. Their careers pause and their reputations drop due to fake charges and the usual controversy. In some cases, there are more serious consequences."
Rachel absorbed that in silence.
"There is more," Marcus added. "He operates offshore as well. Private islands, restricted access. No phones, no cameras. Guests sign non-disclosure agreements before they arrive."
"And if they refuse?" Rachel asked.
"They are not invited again," Marcus said. "Those who accept often lose control of the situation once they are there. That bastard starts slowly, gets them high and addicted to that lifestyle before trapping them. Man or woman, it doesn't matter."
Rachel's voice dropped slightly. "I guess there's more?"
"Oh, yeah. There's more," Marcus replied. "There are multiple missing persons cases connected to these events. Some were ruled natural causes. Others were labeled accidents, but the patterns do not hold up under scrutiny. The guy got dungeons with humans as sex slaves. It's a mess, Rachel. High Table observers have been tracking the activity for some time."
Rachel was quiet for a moment, processing.
"And Max?" she asked finally.
Marcus's tone remained even. "She is a high-profile model with significant visibility. That makes her valuable on her own. But her connection to Titan increases that value considerably."
Rachel's expression turned cold. "Leverage."
"Yes," Marcus said. "Access to Titan and Alex. That makes her a target."
Rachel straightened, her posture returning to its usual composed precision. "I want everything. Financials, associates, island locations, security layout, known attendees, and political ties. Build a full dossier."
"Already in progress," Marcus replied.
There was a moment of silence before...
"So, this guy is a filth. And he's in my crosshairs right now. I can put a bullet in his head for free. Just give me the word," Marcus said.
"No. First, build that dossier. Then nab each one involved in this shit and free those people. I'll send Zero for assist. After that, I'll let the boss decide what to do with them," Rachel said as she walked over to the glass window and looked down at the busy city. "And Marcus, be careful. If they've managed to get away with it for so long, there must be a bigger power aiding them."
"You think, the Cult's remnants?" Marcus asked.
"Who knows? Just keep an eye out for anything out of place and call me when you're done."
Rachel ended the call and stood there for a moment before calling Zero.
...
[Location: Undisclosed]
The yacht drifted slowly across dark waters, rocking gently with the tide, while the smell of gunpowder mixed with salt and blood. Bodies lay scattered across the deck, some slumped against railings, others collapsed where they had tried to run. Crimson streaks ran along the polished wood, pooling near the drain vents where the ocean quietly claimed the evidence.
Zero stood near the bow, katana resting loosely in his hand, the blade still dripping red. His black suit had taken the worst of the fight, sleeves torn, shirt stained, but his posture remained calm as if he had just finished a routine exercise instead of slaughtering sixty cartel members over unpaid dues.
One of his men approached carefully, stepping around the bodies. "Last one's down," he said while wiping his katana clean with a cloth.
Zero glanced once across the deck, eyes scanning every fallen shape with cold precision. "Check below deck again," he replied calmly while flicking the blood from his blade with a quick motion.
The man nodded immediately. "Already done. There were no survivors. The cargo is safe, and the payment has been collected."
Zero sheathed his katana slowly, then reached for the towel placed neatly on the nearby table. He wiped his hands, then his face, removing most of the blood without any visible urgency. His phone buzzed against the metal surface beside him, vibrating steadily.
He looked down at the screen.
Rachel.
Zero picked up the phone and answered with a little hint of a smile. "Rachel."
Rachel's voice came through. "Where are you?"
"Cleaning up a payment dispute," Zero replied while stepping over a body and walking toward the cabin.
Rachel did not ask further. She already knew what that meant. "Finish and head to New York with your team. I need you ready to move on short notice."
Zero pushed open the cabin door and stepped inside, his shoes leaving faint red prints across the floor. "Target?"
"Extraction," Rachel said. "Multiple individuals. Quiet operation."
Zero reached for a clean shirt hanging inside the wardrobe. "Timeline?"
"Soon," Rachel replied. "I'll send details once the dossier is complete."
Zero put the call on speaker. He placed it on the table and removed his blood-soaked jacket and tossed it aside. "Understood."
Rachel paused briefly, then added, "I also heard you've been pushing influence in Germany."
Zero slipped into the fresh shirt. "Expansion requires opportunity."
"You'll get one," Rachel said. "Complete this job successfully and Germany opens for you. Territory rights included."
Zero's eyes sharpened slightly at that. "Generous offer."
"You'll earn it," Rachel replied.
Zero stepped back outside onto the deck, the wind carrying away the lingering scent of blood. "Anything else?"
Rachel looked out over the city skyline from Titan Studios. "You'll be working with Marcus on this one. So, are you going to take this contract?"
Zero smiled. "It'd be rude not to."
Rachel ended the call without another word.
Zero took his phone and put it in his pocket, then turned toward his men, who were already cleaning the deck and pushing bodies toward weighted bags.
"We're heading to New York," he said calmly.
One of the men looked up. "All of us?"
"All of us," Zero replied while picking up his katana again. "New job. Quiet extraction with more than generous payment. Activate our men in New York. This time, we'll need all hands on deck."
The man nodded immediately. "Understood."
...
[Back to NY] [Max & Caroline's first apartment]
The backyard behind Max and Caroline's old apartment looked exactly the same as it always had. The crooked fence still leaned slightly to one side, the concrete still carried faint stains from years of questionable activities, and the air still smelled like old cardboard, dust, and whatever mystery substance had once leaked from a broken freezer.
Except now there was fire.
A loud burst of flame shot across a pile of old junk, and Max stood in the middle of it wearing sunglasses, holding a flamethrower like she had just discovered her true calling in life.
She laughed, loud and unhinged, while another stream of fire roared across a stack of broken crates. "Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me? No, wait, it's definitely me. WHOO! That's that good gas!"
Inside the apartment, Caroline stepped through the door carrying a small paper bag, her face bright with satisfaction. She kicked the door shut behind her and lifted the bag proudly.
"Ten dollars," she said to herself with a grin. "Brand new designer shoes. Some rich woman probably bought them, wore them once, and donated them because she felt spiritually cluttered. I love rich people guilt."
She bought new branded shoes for 10 dollars from Goodwill, a thrift store. Even though she's rich now, her old habits from her broke days have remained with her.
Then she heard the laughter.
Caroline froze.
The sound came from outside. It sounded like Max. It also sounded like someone who had just discovered gasoline and poor life choices at the same time.
"Oh no," Caroline muttered while already moving toward the back.
She pushed open the door that led to the backyard, stepping out carefully.
Heat hit her first.
Then she saw Max.
Max stood there, grinning like a maniac, flames dancing in front of her while she waved the flamethrower back and forth like she was painting abstract art with fire.
"MAX!" Caroline shouted, eyes wide.
Max turned, still smiling. "Oh, hey, blonde. Check this out."
She squeezed the trigger again, and a fresh burst of flame blasted across a broken chair.
Caroline rushed forward, clutching her bag tightly. "What are you doing?"
"New year cleaning," Max replied casually while adjusting her grip.
"With a flamethrower?" Caroline asked, her voice climbing higher.
Max shrugged. "I don't see a problem here that 500 gallons of napalm can't fix. Seriously, look at it. It's sparkling!"
"First of all, that's a movie line," Caroline stared at her, then at the burning pile, then back at Max. "Secondly, where did you even get that?"
Max grinned wider. "Moneybags."
Caroline blinked. "Of course he did."
Max nodded proudly. "He said I should use it responsibly. So I brought it here instead of the penthouse."
Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose. "That is not responsible."
Max aimed at an old mattress leaning against the wall. "They said, 'with great power comes great responsibility.' I think they meant I'm responsible for making sure this thing stays at maximum pressure. It's about commitment!"
She pulled the trigger, and flames crawled across the mattress instantly.
Caroline jumped back. "Max!"
Max laughed again, clearly enjoying herself way too much. She stopped for a moment and turned toward Caroline, "Wanna try?" She smirked.
Caroline froze as if she wanted to say something, but Max's question made her pause for a moment before she let her intrusive thoughts win, 'Look at her enjoying her life. You could too. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?'
"Gimme that thing."
...
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[5 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers]