Chapter 173: Dealings
The room was quiet except for Viola’s slow, steady breathing. She was sprawled across the sheets, the dim glow of the city sneaking through the blinds, half her body wrapped lazily in a thin cloth. Sleep clung to her until a sharp chime split the silence.
Her eyes flickered open, annoyed, confused. She dragged herself off the bed, moving toward the closet. From the back she pulled out a sleek black case and unlatched it. Inside sat a compact holo-pad. She carried it over to the table, tapped it, and a faint blue shimmer filled the air.
A figure formed—tall, armored, his presence heavy even through projection. The captain of the Spade Hounds.
Viola’s brow furrowed. "Why the hell are you calling me? I told you—I’m out. I left the Syndicate."
The captain’s face twisted for a moment. Rage threatened to break through, but he forced it down, his lips pulling into a mockery of calm. The disgust in his eyes was clear; pretending to be polite looked like it pained him.
"I have a job for you," he said evenly.
"No." Viola didn’t hesitate. She turned as if to shut the device off. "I already told you—I’m done. Whatever leash you think you’ve got on me, cut it."
His tone hardened. "If you take this job, I’ll make you Vice Commander of the Spade Hounds."
That stopped her. Viola narrowed her eyes, interest flashing beneath the weariness. "...Vice Commander?" She stepped closer, studying him. "What proof do I have that you’ll keep your end of the deal? What stops you from using me and throwing me aside the second it’s done?"
He smirked thinly. "I’ll put it in writing. An official entry in the Syndicate registry. The Spade Hounds are under Crimson Haven Syndicate—our word is bound by law and code. We don’t break it. Not if we value our lives."
Viola crossed her arms, tapping her finger against her elbow. "...Alright. Then what’s the job?"
The captain’s smile widened, sharp and cold. "Kill Xavier."
Viola froze. The name hit her like ice water, chasing away the last traces of drowsiness. Her eyes narrowed, searching his face for a hint of a joke, but there was none—just cold, seething intent.
"...Xavier?" she repeated slowly. "Again? I already turned down that mission."
The captain’s jaw flexed. "He’s a threat. He’s been interfering with our operations, costing me commanders, soldiers, resources. I want him erased. Permanently."
Viola leaned against the table, folding her arms under her chest. A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "So the big, bad Spade Hounds can’t handle one man, and now you’re crawling back to someone who retired? That’s rich."
His eyes flashed, but he held the façade. "Careful, Viola. I’m offering you power. Status. A seat most of the Syndicate would kill for. Don’t mistake my patience for weakness."
She let the silence stretch, weighing the offer. Vice Commander wasn’t a small thing—her name would be carved into the hierarchy, her past sins forgiven, her future secured. But Xavier... she’d heard the whispers about him. Almost knew him. Heard how fast he was climbing, how reckless he could be, how dangerous.
Finally, she tilted her head, voice calm but edged. "If I do this... you make it official. I want my name locked in the books before I lift a finger. No tricks. No waiting until after."
The captain exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, but he nodded. "Fine. You’ll have it. Consider it done."
Viola tapped the holo-pad with a fingernail, her smirk widening into something sharp. "Then I guess we have a deal. Xavier’s mine."
The projection flickered as the captain’s image leaned closer, his voice dropping low. "Don’t underestimate him. Fail, and you won’t just lose the Syndicate. You’ll lose your life."
The call cut, leaving the room silent again, except for the faint hum of the pad.
Viola sat back in her chair, staring at the blank space where his image had been. Then, slowly, she exhaled and whispered to herself—half amusement, half curiosity—
"...Xavier, huh? Looks like we are bound by some kind of fate."
It was well past midnight when Viola sealed her deal.
Meanwhile, Xavier was buried in Seraphina’s sheets. The room smelled of sweat and perfume, skin sticking against skin as he had her folded, bouncing, grinding, riding—switching positions until neither of them could keep count anymore. By the time they were done, Seraphina collapsed against his chest, breathless, and Xavier just smiled before finally letting sleep drag him under too.
The city outside didn’t sleep.
On the 55th floor of Nexus Tower, shadows moved along the ledges, darting between the flickers of neon light and the dark gaps of the skyscraper. Assassins. Hired blades. Alexander’s desperate throw of fifty million credits was already in motion.
They clung to the glass with silent rigs, eyes flicking over blueprints projected faintly against their visors. Xavier’s floor was wrapped in heavy security—biometric locks, motion sensors, pressure grids. Even a damn moth brushing the wrong panel would light up the alarms.
One of the assassins, a lean figure with claws grafted into his gloves, tapped a finger against the window, whispering low through his comms.
"Guy’s packed tighter than a Syndicate vault. No way we bust through without waking half the building."
Another crouched beside him, pulling out a thin needle-like probe. "That’s why we go quiet. Disable the nodes. One at a time."
Their leader raised a hand, signaling silence. He kept his gaze on the glowing outlines of Xavier’s apartment beyond the glass. A massive egg sat in one of the side rooms, faintly glowing in the heat lamps. And in the bedrooms—two bodies sleeping in their rooms.
The leader’s voice was flat, almost amused.
"Don’t take your eyes off the target. We’re not here to sightsee. One shot. One kill. In and out."
They began working—delicate hands, tools glinting, slicing through layers of invisible defenses.
But Xavier wasn’t the type of man you could sneak up on forever. Not to mention, he wasn’t even in his apartment.