Aira Ke stared at the ceiling of the guesthouse room, her mind spinning in the haze of sleeplessness. The red silk envelope still sat on the nightstand beside her, its contents seared into her memory. The photos, the note—Eliminate before the 18th. The journalist knows too much.
She should have ignored it. Walked away, gone to the police, told someone—anyone—but the problem was, Kian Lei Raizhen had already sealed her fate. She couldn't go to the authorities, not when he'd just handed her the tools to survive the game he'd thrown her into. She wasn't naive enough to think he was just protecting her out of some misplaced sense of decency. No, he was playing a much bigger game—and she was a piece on his chessboard.
But why? Why her?
The thought gnawed at her like a persistent itch she couldn't scratch. She hadn't even been investigating him—at least, not until she stumbled into this labyrinth of corporate corruption. But Kian had a way of turning everything into his narrative. Of making her a part of whatever twisted plot he was weaving.
Her phone buzzed, vibrating against the wooden surface of the nightstand.
She sat up, the sudden movement sharp, her heart quickening. The screen displayed a single, anonymous message:
"Warehouse 7. South Harbor. Tomorrow. 9:00 a.m. Come alone. No mistakes."
There was no name, no signature. Yet, Aira knew exactly who was behind it. The voice, cold and deliberate. The eyes that bore into her like knives.
Kian Lei Raizhen.
The man with smoke in his eyes. The man who had drawn her into his web, and now, just like that, was demanding she dance to his tune.
Her throat tightened. Kian hadn't just given her a warning—he had set the stage. He was manipulating her every move. The cryptic message was meant to keep her off balance, to remind her that she wasn't in control of this investigation. She wasn't even in control of her own life anymore.
With a shaky breath, Aira ran her fingers through her hair, trying to steady herself. She had no choice but to go. She knew the consequences if she didn't. If Kian had intercepted the hit meant for her, he was still pulling the strings. He was the only one standing between her and certain death.
But she wasn't foolish enough to believe that his motives were pure.
She wasn't sure if he wanted her to live for the same reasons she wanted to keep breathing—she was merely part of his larger scheme, a piece in a much grander puzzle. That thought made her blood run cold.
She slid out of bed, pacing the small room as her mind raced. She couldn't ignore this. She had to face him. And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she was walking into the lion's den… or simply walking into his trap.
---
The next morning, Aira found herself standing outside the worn-out steel gates of Warehouse 7, the South Harbor looming in the distance like a blackened ghost in the fog. The air was thick with the smell of saltwater and industrial decay. The vast expanse of abandoned warehouses stretched out before her, their windows shattered, their walls covered in years of grime.
It was the perfect place for a clandestine meeting. A place where secrets could be buried, and no one would ever hear them scream.
Aira had come alone. She hadn't dared bring backup—not with the stakes so high, not when Kian had made it clear that this game was one she had no choice but to play by his rules.
She checked her phone. It was nearly 9:00 a.m.
Her heart pounded as her eyes scanned the surroundings. The silence was oppressive. No workers, no cars—just the hum of distant traffic in the city that seemed a world away from this forsaken place.
Then, she saw him.
Kian Lei Raizhen.
He stepped out from behind one of the crumbling buildings, his figure emerging from the shadows like a predator in the dark. The moment he appeared, the world seemed to shrink, the weight of his presence pressing down on her chest.
He was dressed in black again, his tailored suit cutting through the fog like a blade. His expression was unreadable, his pale grey eyes locking with hers as if they were alone in the universe. His gaze flickered, just for a second, to the empty space between them—then back to her.
"You came," he said, his voice low and even, without a trace of surprise.
Aira narrowed her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. "I didn't have much choice," she retorted, her tone tight.
He tilted his head slightly, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips. "You always have a choice, Ms. Ke. It's just that sometimes, your options are more... dangerous than others."
She hated the way he made it sound like this was all part of some sick game to him. He was the puppet master, and she was just a pawn.
Aira stepped forward, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement, unwilling to show any fear. "What's this all about, Raizhen? Why this... circus? What do you want from me?"
Kian's gaze never wavered. "You know what I want. But more importantly," he paused, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I need to know what you want, Ms. Ke. Are you after the truth, or are you just chasing shadows?"
Aira bristled. "Don't try to twist this. You're the one playing games."
His eyes darkened. "And you're the one who keeps stepping into the game."
Aira clenched her fists at her sides, the bitterness in her veins threatening to overflow. She wanted to throw her questions at him—wanted to demand answers. But there was something in his eyes that kept her from doing it. Something that told her she was far out of her depth.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them felt suspended in time, like a scene frozen in an eerie tableau. Then, with a sudden motion, Kian reached into his jacket and pulled out a file. He held it out to her, but she didn't take it.
"You're not going to like what's inside," he warned, his tone eerily calm.
Aira hesitated, her eyes flicking between him and the file. "And why would I?" she asked, her voice low, almost a growl.
"Because," Kian said, stepping closer, his gaze fixed on hers, "it's everything you need to understand why I'm involved in this—and why you're still alive."
Aira snatched the file from his hand, ripping it open. Inside, there were more photos. More names. The tangled threads of the conspiracy she was trying to uncover, stretching deeper than she had ever imagined. The names of people she knew. People she trusted. And at the center of it all—the Raizhen Group.
Aira's hands trembled as she flipped through the pages. She didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was damning. And Kian... Kian was at the center of it all, whether he liked it or not.
But even as she processed the information, there was one undeniable fact. Kian was right. She was in this now. Deeply in it. And whether she liked it or not, she was going to need his help to untangle the web.
Kian's voice broke through her thoughts, as cold and detached as ever.
"You can't expose this alone, Ms. Ke," he said, his voice low. "And if you try... you'll die trying."
Aira's heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him, her breath caught in her throat.
He smiled again, but it was no longer reassuring. It was a promise.
"Welcome to the game," he said softly.
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To Be Continued...
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