The city slept, unaware of the storm brewing above and below its glittering skyline. Adrian De Vere Leone stepped out of Valeria's room, his eyes narrowing as the adrenaline of fury and worry settled into cold calculation. He pulled out the secured black phone, its surface gleaming under the dim lights of the penthouse.
"This is Adrian," he said, voice sharp, clipped.
"Black Mantis unit online, sir," came the reply — calm, loyal, deadly.
"Track the vehicle. Every movement, every deviation. I want her location within the hour. No excuses."
"Yes, sir."
Black Mantis did not only chase images. They peeled secrets. They were not an arm of state; they were the state's shadow when the state could not act. Men in suits trembled at the name. Ministers who thought themselves untouchable kept a private folder labeled only in whispers: Black Mantis. Ghosts trained in five continents. Operators who could move through a palace with fewer footprints than a cat. Lawyers could file papers; Black Mantis filed disappearances of ledgers. Bank vaults hummed differently when they wanted to listen. Embassies had channels; Black Mantis had keys. Protocol meant nothing when they decided to rewrite it.
Within minutes, screens lit up the command center. Thermal scans, traffic cams, satellite feeds, everything Black Mantis could access. But then a problem emerged: the vehicle in question had no license plate. Not only that, it was a diplomatic car, the kind reserved for ministers and high-ranking officials. Standard tracking would fail.
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Untraceable?"
"Temporarily, sir," Ghost replied. "But every diplomatic vehicle carries a symbol, a mark. Small, almost invisible. Usually at the rear corner of the car. Specific designs indicate office, rank, country."
Adrian's eyes flicked to the screen, sharp as a blade. "Show me the cars used tonight. Highlight every diplomatic plate in the industrial district."
Leonard stepped forward, tablet in hand. "Sir… there is something. Look here," he said, zooming in on a subtle emblem at the back of one of the vans faint, but unmistakable. "This is specific to Vice President cars of Country A. The insignia matches the description perfectly."
Adrian's mind raced, connecting dots at lightning speed. Diplomatic plates. Heat signatures. The armored convoy that whisked Valeria away. And yet… why? How?
He turned to Leonard, eyes dark with intensity. "Why would the Vice President's car be involved in a kidnapping? And why her?"
Leonard hesitated, then spoke cautiously, his voice measured. "Sir… in Valeria's class at Aurelius Business Academy… there is a student, the Vice President's daughter. Chesla Gawklow. She… could she be involved?"
Adrian's fingers tightened around the phone. Silence filled the room for a long moment, heavy and charged. Then, slowly, a cold, precise calculation settled over him.
"So the girl, Valeria… she crossed someone untouchable," he murmured. His voice was quiet, but each word carried the weight of a predator circling its prey. "And yet… why would Chesla risk everything, using diplomatic connections, just to humiliate a girl from nothing?"
Leonard's expression mirrored concern, but also awe. "Sir… this means the act was personal. It wasn't random. Someone was threatened by Valeria's rise, and they struck using the tools only power could afford."
Adrian's eyes narrowed, a storm of strategy forming in his mind. "Prepare every operative. Every channel. Every shadow. I want the route reconstructed. I want witnesses identified. And when we uncover the full truth, no one not even a Vice President's daughter will stand unscathed."
The Black Mantis unit moved silently under his command. Ghost coordinated drone sweeps, cross-checked surveillance, and traced thermal signatures, but the diplomatic plates complicated everything. Every lead demanded careful, invisible maneuvering. No law could touch this, no politician could intervene, and no media could expose their methods.
Adrian's gaze softened briefly toward the closed door of Valeria's room, even as his mind churned with vengeance and precision. "She hurt my Valeria," he whispered. "She will learn that the price of crossing her… crosses even the untouchable."
Leonard's fingers flew over the tablet, marking the exact vehicle route, analyzing entry points, mapping out connections. "Sir… if Chesla is involved, she underestimated us. She underestimated you."
Adrian's lips curved into a faint, deadly smile. "They all do, Leonard. They all do."
The night deepened, the city unaware that in one penthouse, a king was planning a calculated storm one that would strip arrogance bare and deliver justice in a way only the royal-born predator could.