Morning in Jing City felt colder than usual.
Not the chill of the air—but the kind that seeped into bones when betrayal reared its head.
Aira Ke stood at her window, watching the sun claw its way through the smog, her gun tucked in the waistband of her jeans. Her heartbeat was steady now, her nerves locked down. There would be no panic today. No hesitation.
Only action.
Jinli—the woman who'd once championed her toughest stories, who'd pushed her to the front lines—was dirty. Caught on video with Deputy Minister Zhou Renwei. Plotting her silence.
Aira tightened her grip on the encrypted flash drive hidden beneath her jacket.
She wouldn't run.
She wouldn't hide.
She would confront her editor face-to-face.
And if Jinli tried to play her for a fool again—well, Aira wasn't the naive intern she'd once been.
Not anymore.
---
The People's Eye newsroom bustled when she arrived, but it sounded different this morning.
Hushed.
Like everyone already sensed the coming storm.
Aira strode across the floor, ignoring the sideways glances. Her boots thudded heavy against the tile, each step a drumbeat toward confrontation.
Inside Jinli's office, the editor sat behind her glass desk, typing something with mechanical precision. Her dark bob was immaculate, her tailored suit flawless—an image of unbothered authority.
For a heartbeat, Aira hesitated.
Then she pushed the door open without knocking.
Jinli looked up, feigning surprise. "Aira? I was just about to call you in."
"Save it," Aira said coldly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "We need to talk. Now."
Jinli leaned back in her chair, folding her hands neatly. "About what?"
Aira pulled out her laptop and dropped it onto the desk, spinning the screen around to face her.
The paused video footage glowed between them.
Jinli's face didn't flicker.
Not even a blink.
Cold. Calculating.
Like she'd been expecting this moment.
"You know," Aira said, voice low and steady, "I always wondered how our exclusives got scooped. How leads went cold right when we were getting close."
She hit play.
The footage rolled: Zhou Renwei issuing orders. Jinli accepting them without question.
When the video ended, silence reigned.
For a long moment, Jinli just stared at Aira.
Then she smiled. Small. Almost sad.
"You're good," she said. "Better than I thought."
"You tried to have me killed," Aira spat.
"No," Jinli corrected gently. "I tried to keep you alive."
Aira recoiled, disgust curling in her gut. "By selling me out?"
"You don't understand the game you're playing, Aira." Jinli's voice was calm, coaxing. "These people—Zhou, LongHe International, the entire machine behind Raizhen Group's old empire—they don't just bury stories. They bury people. Families. Legacies."
"I'm not afraid of them," Aira snapped.
"You should be."
Jinli rose from her chair slowly, her hands open in a placating gesture.
"I protected you for as long as I could. Shielded your name from certain lists. Fed you safe stories. But you got reckless."
"I got close," Aira corrected.
"Close enough that no one can save you now." Jinli's gaze softened, almost maternal. "Walk away, Aira. I can still broker your safety. Delete the files. Leave Jing City for a few months. Start over."
Aira laughed bitterly.
"Start over?" she repeated. "While Zhou Renwei builds his empire on blood and lies?"
She leaned in, voice a deadly whisper.
"I'm not running. And neither are you."
Jinli's face hardened.
"I can't help you anymore," she said simply.
"You never did," Aira said, grabbing her laptop and backing toward the door. "Next time you send someone after me—make sure they're better shots."
Jinli didn't call out.
Didn't threaten.
Only watched as Aira slammed the door behind her.
---
Outside, the newsroom felt suffocating.
Too many eyes.
Too many traitors.
She shoved her laptop into her bag and headed for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Her breath came sharp, adrenaline sharpening her senses.
She needed to disappear. Regroup.
There was only one person left who might have answers.
Kian Lei Raizhen.
The man she couldn't trust—and maybe the only one she could trust.
Jing City's streets pulsed with noise as she hailed a cab and barked the address Kian had given her in the last flash drive: a luxury high-rise near the Bund, the penthouse suite reserved for corporate ghosts and billionaires who preferred shadows.
As the cab weaved through traffic, Aira's mind raced.
She couldn't publish through The People's Eye anymore. The whole organization was compromised.
She couldn't go to the police—half of them were in Zhou's pocket.
And she couldn't expose Zhou without understanding why Kian had tied himself to this war.
The pieces didn't fit yet.
But they would.
Or she'd burn trying.
---
Thirty minutes later, Aira found herself standing in front of an obsidian glass door on the 52nd floor.
No nameplate. No buzzer.
Only a single black security camera tracking her every movement.
She pressed her palm flat against the scanner Kian had texted her about.
A soft click. The door swung open.
And there he was.
Kian Lei Raizhen.
Dressed in a simple black sweater and slacks, no armor of tailored suits today. No public face.
Just a man with tired eyes—and a gun resting on the table beside him.
"You're late," he said.
"Had to dodge a few knives in my back," Aira said dryly, stepping inside.
Kian watched her carefully, his posture relaxed but alert.
"You saw the video," he said. Not a question.
"I confronted her," Aira said, crossing the room. "She offered me a deal."
"And?"
"I declined."
Kian gave the faintest smile. "Good."
Aira didn't sit. She stayed standing, facing him like an adversary—or an uneasy ally.
"You said Zhou Renwei wants you gone because you cut off his influence in Raizhen Group," she said. "Prove it."
Without a word, Kian picked up a tablet and tossed it onto the table.
"Swipe through."
Aira did.
Emails. Signed contracts. Payment ledgers. All showing Zhou funneling illicit money through LongHe International under fake procurement deals—with Raizhen Group's old subsidiaries listed as silent partners.
Years ago.
Before Kian took control.
She whistled low under her breath.
"You weren't lying," she muttered.
"Not about this," Kian said. "About many things—yes. But not this."
He rose from his chair, crossing to the window. Below them, Jing City glittered like a serpent's scales.
"Zhou needs Raizhen's influence. Our steel contracts, our shipping routes. Without them, he can't expand into Southeast Asia."
"And if you stand in the way—"
"He burns me down. And anyone standing too close," Kian finished.
Aira absorbed this, her mind whirring.
"Then we need to move first," she said.
Kian turned, one eyebrow raised.
"*We*?" he echoed.
"You dragged me into this," Aira said flatly. "You don't get to leave me dangling while the wolves circle."
Kian studied her for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
Not the cold, calculating smile he wore for the cameras.
Something real.
Something dangerous.
"Alright, Ms. Ke," he said softly. "Let's play."
---
That night, Aira and Kian sat side-by-side at the massive penthouse table, maps and files spread between them like a war council.
They plotted targets.
The dummy corporations shielding Zhou's finances.
The corrupted politicians propping up his regime.
The journalists on his payroll—including several at The People's Eye.
Every name was a thread—and if they pulled hard enough, the entire tapestry would unravel.
But it wouldn't be easy.
One wrong move and Zhou would strike back hard.
Kian leaned over the maps, his voice low.
"I have an asset inside Zhou's camp," he said. "She's scared. Wants out. But she won't move unless she knows we can protect her."
"Who?" Aira asked.
Kian hesitated.
Then he tapped a name.
Liling Zhang.
Aira blinked.
Deputy Press Secretary.
One of the most visible faces in Zhou's media machine.
If they flipped her—they could destroy Zhou from the inside.
Kian met her eyes.
"This is your shot," he said. "Get Liling out safely—and you'll have everything you need to bury Zhou."
"And if we fail?" Aira asked.
Kian's smile turned razor-sharp.
"Then we both die."
Simple as that.
---
Later, as she stood on the penthouse balcony, staring out at Jing City's endless lights, Aira allowed herself a single breath of fear.
Not for herself.
For the city.
For the innocent lives twisted in the crossfire of power games they could never see.
Aira Ke had always fought for the truth.
But this time, truth had claws.
And blood.
Behind her, Kian watched her in silence.
An alliance forged not by trust—but by survival.
Tomorrow, they'd start the extraction.
Tomorrow, they'd light the match.
And pray they didn't burn first.
---