From the outside, it looked like any other high-end residential complex—clean walls, neat landscaping, tinted glass. But as Leah Davies stepped inside, the dull echo of her boots meeting the marble floor shifted into something else entirely. Past the first security checkpoint, the hallway lit up with LED paneling, and the doors slid open automatically to reveal a space that was nothing short of futuristic.
Rows of top-of-the-line computers flickered in quiet sync. A large transparent screen displayed live feeds from various surveillance points across the city. Welcome to Team T, the covert special task unit hidden in plain sight.
"Morning, Leah!" one of the agents waved.
She gave a nod, all business. "Any updates on the files I sent yesterday?"
Her boots clicked against the sleek flooring as she made her way to the central control hub.
"Yeah," said Elara, the team's top data analyst. "We ran checks on the targets from that mission briefing. The four other names all have suspicious ties—offshore accounts, shady logistics companies. But this one…" She clicked on the screen. A clean-cut image of Daniel Blackwood appeared.
Leah narrowed her eyes.
"Daniel Blackwood," Elara continued. "CEO of Tylark Industries, which he built from scratch. Also CEO of his family's generational business—Blackwood Enterprises. Both are internationally recognized, legally clean. No red flags. Not even a traffic ticket."
"That doesn't make sense…" Leah muttered, folding her arms.
Elara tilted her head. "If he's involved, he's very good at hiding it."
Leah didn't respond. Her sharp gaze lingered on Daniel's picture.
"I'll look into him myself," she said simply.
Just then, a tall man with tousled brown hair threw an arm around Leah's shoulders, nearly knocking her off balance.
"Guess what, Ice Queen?" said David, their weapons specialist, grinning. "We're crashing a masquerade party tonight. A big one. Rumor has it the trafficking exchange is happening there. Real scumbags. Influential ones too. Should be fun."
Leah arched a brow. "Fun?"
"Fun with guns!" David winked.
A door opened at the far end of the room, and instantly the atmosphere shifted.
Chief Chresav entered, his presence commanding. The team straightened immediately. David yanked his arm off Leah like he touched fire.
"Davies," Chresav said, eyes locking onto her. "If you go rogue again, I'll personally see you pulled from field duty. Understand?"
Leah's face was unreadable. "Yes, sir. That won't happen."
"Good. Let's keep it that way."
After Chresav left, Leah gathered the team for briefing. She outlined the plan: infiltration, identification of the targets, extraction of evidence. She would go undercover as bait—her appearance enough to attract attention. The party, after all, catered to those who shopped for humans like commodities.
---
Later that Night…
The grand estate glowed under chandeliers and moonlight. A masquerade unlike any other—champagne flowing, violins playing, and decadence wrapped in sin. Guests wore glittering gowns, sleek tuxedos, and smiles that masked intentions far darker.
Leah stepped inside, hair dyed a soft silver-grey, but her sharp blue eyes remained unchanged. She wore a dark maroon gown, slit high, the fabric clinging to her form with elegance and danger. Sparkles danced across the dress like embers beneath the stars.
Heads turned. Eyes followed.
A predator's paradise.
From a private balcony above, a man swirled the wine in his glass.
Daniel Blackwood leaned casually against the rail, gaze fixed. The moment she entered, his eyes never left her. Even with her disguised hair and gown, he knew. He recognized her—the woman from the street, the convenience store, the masquerade.
His eyes darkened with interest.
"She came here alone," he muttered under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips. "Bold."
Down below, Leah made contact with one of the targets. She laughed delicately, baiting the conversation. But something made her spine prickle. She looked up toward the balcony… empty.
Or so it seemed.
She excused herself politely and slipped into the hallway toward the restroom. Inside, she tapped her earpiece.
"Check upper level feeds," she whispered. "Someone's watching."
A voice responded, "On it."
"I'm initiating Phase Two," she said, reaching under her gown and adjusting the silent pistol strapped to her thigh.
She ended the call, but before she could step out, a sudden hand gripped her waist and spun her—her back pressed against a wall, breath caught.
Her hand went to her thigh, ready to draw, but froze when her gaze landed on the intruder.
Black eyes. White tux. That face.
"Easy," Daniel said in a husky whisper. "Not the best way to greet a man offering to dance."
Leah's eyes narrowed. "And this is your idea of asking politely?"
He chuckled softly, not stepping back. "I prefer to be persuasive."
"I prefer men with manners."
"Touché." His voice dropped an octave. "But I couldn't help noticing—you're far too interesting for just a party girl."
She tilted her head. "And you're far too observant for a wine enthusiast."
"Daniel," he said, offering his hand. "Just a corporate guy."
"Leah," she replied smoothly, taking his hand, though her grip was firm. "Just a girl who likes champagne."
They danced a few steps in silence, the music drifting faintly from the ballroom.
Daniel leaned in slightly, his voice brushing against her ear like velvet.
"There's a story behind those eyes… and I plan to read every chapter."
She smiled—cold, poised.
"Careful. Some stories end in blood."
He let out a low, amused laugh. "God, you're trouble."
"And you're wasting my time.
Leah's words left a chill in the air between them, but Daniel didn't step back. If anything, he looked more intrigued—his smirk sharpening as if her warning was exactly what he wanted to hear.
Just then, Leah's earpiece buzzed softly.
"Leah, target three just moved to the eastern balcony," came David's voice, hushed and alert.
"Proceed when ready. And watch your back."
She gave the faintest nod, her blue eyes flickering once toward the hallway behind Daniel.
"I have to go," she said, stepping away.
Daniel reached out—not stopping her, just letting his fingers briefly brush her arm.
"I'll see you again, won't I?"
Leah tilted her head. "Depends. If you survive tonight."
She vanished down the corridor like smoke, her maroon gown trailing behind her like dusk. Daniel stood still for a moment, that smile never quite leaving his lips.
He turned toward the balcony above, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd below. His voice, quiet, cold, went into his discreet comms line:
"Keep your eyes on her. No interference—unless things go wrong."
---
Meanwhile, Leah maneuvered through the shadows, approaching the eastern balcony where the main trafficker was suspected to be negotiating a deal. Hidden under the shimmering lights and clinking glasses, something sinister stirred.
She stopped behind a tall pillar, her fingers grazing the grip of her silenced pistol beneath her gown.
Her voice was calm .
"I'm in position. Five minutes to move. Everyone ready."
Then—a sound.
Leather soles. Confident steps.
Someone was coming.
She narrowed her eyes, ready to strike… but what she didn't expect was him.
Daniel stepped out of the darkness once more, blocking her path.
"You again," she said, not even surprised.
"Are you following me?"
His eyes gleamed in the low light.
"Let's just say… I have a thing for dangerous women in red."
She rolled her eyes but didn't move her hand away from her thigh holster.
"If you don't want a bullet in your leg, walk away."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"And miss the part where you bring the monsters down? Not a chance."
From her earpiece, David's voice suddenly cut through—urgent, panicked.
"Leah—abort! It's a setup! They know someone's infiltrated the party!"
Her eyes darted toward the crowd. The men she had been watching were no longer in sight.
Then—
A gun clicked behind her.
"Drop it," came a voice she didn't recognize.
And Daniel?
Gone.
Like smoke.