The rain rarely stopped giving its visitation hours for free for three days.
It slid down the tall windows of the Marcellus headquarters in thin silver lines, blurring the city lights below.
Coastal cities with sprawling docks and harbours, perfect for shipping progressions.
Mountain ranges inland, hiding secret alleys and routes, and secluded estates made of bricks. Eryndor of Valdoria is a place of political instability and insistent on it for a few decades now.
Foggy rivers and canals weave through the capital city, Eryndor, adding an air of cruelty almost.
Inside the conference room, twelve people sat around the long black table. A long, black, polished mahogany table made itself the royalty, locating itself right in the centre. surrounded by high-backed chairs. Screens lined the walls, displaying maps, shipments, and feeds from surveillance cameras from every angle possible. Unavoidably cold room; it was a war room in other words.
All of them belonged to Selene Marcellus. Her eyes were observant—deep, steady, and calculating behind thin metal-rimmed glasses. They were the kind of eyes that rarely blinked during conversation, sometimes hazel green and caramel-colored. Selene had eye color changing with magic, against the sunlight. People could never realise it wasn't the eyes of a sunshine. watching every movement, every hesitation, every lie, when it's not about even chore. When Selene looked at someone long enough, they often felt as though she could see right through them. Selena detects and never just watches for the sake of it. Sometimes she hates herself for it as well.
Selene's lips were often painted a deep shade of crimson, a color that gave her otherwise calm face a striking contrast. Her voice was maintained and never rushed, and never once cracked. She favored refined clothing—structured blouses, tailored trousers, and control rather than extravagant pieces. She did dress to impress, but people are rarely alive enough to be impressed. The 28-year-old black-haired woman carried the quietness of someone who had spent her entire life watching people betray each other, and learned exactly how to survive it, or maybe be reborn from it.
The air inside was almost sterile, like a morgue some days. but carried a subtle scent of expensive leather, and faint traces of gun oil—an unconscious reminder of the power contained within. Every surface gleamed: black marble floors, dark mahogany walls, screens gleaming in her glasses with blue tints.
It was, in a word, a room ready for a heist. But generally, the heist never happens.
All of them had sworn loyalty to her family.
One of them was a traitor.
Selene leaned back in her chair, fingers loosely interlocked on the table. Her glasses rested low on her nose, the dim chandelier light reflecting softly against the lenses.
To anyone watching, she looked cool.
Almost bored.
But Selene was watching everything.
The way Marco tapped his ring against the table. The same ring his ex-fiancée had gifted her, right before cheating on him with his own biological brother. Sometimes knowing the inner stories could be an irritation for Selene.
The way Viktor's leg bounced under his chair. Viktor always had anxiety better than anyone in a room.
The way Adrian refused to meet her eyes. He always did meet her eyes after falling in love with the queen of Marcellus, Selene herself. Adrian loved Selene utterly to even stopped having meaningless sex on the docks, as every other worker does generally.
Information came to her the way pieces of a puzzle slowly revealed themselves.
She didn't rush puzzles. She loved them, lived them
Across the table, one of the men cleared his throat.
"Shipment from the southern docks arrived this morning," he reported. The shipment of morphine with plastic injections, a cheap shipment she didn't want to send in the first place. Selling morphine was a risk in southern countries. "Everything went smoothly."
Selene nodded once.
But she already knew that part was a lie.
Because the shipment had been ambushed.
Three of her men were currently in the hospital.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone had leaked the location.
And that someone was sitting in this room.
Selene slowly reached for the folder in front of her.
When she opened it, the soft sound of paper turning filled the quiet room.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Several of the men shifted in their seats.
They had learned something about Selene Marcellus over the years.
The quieter she became—
The worst things were about to get.
Most people saw conversations.
Selene saw patterns.
Growing up as the daughter of a mafia king taught her one important lesson: the most dangerous lies were never spoken loudly. They hid in the pauses between words.
So Selene learned to listen to those pauses.
Selene adjusted her glasses slightly and looked up.
"Marco," she said softly.
The man straightened immediately.
"Yes, boss?"
Selene studied him for a moment.
Then she asked, "Where were you yesterday at 10 p.m.?"
Marco frowned slightly.
"At the docks. Supervising the shipment."
Selene nodded.
She expected that answer. Marco rarely lied; he couldn't lie because he made the lie too obvious, and Selene sometimes got bored with it.
Then she turned her head slightly.
"Viktor," she said.
"Yes?"
"You were with him?"
"Yes."
Selene's gaze drifted slowly around the room.
One by one, she looked at every man sitting there.
Some avoided eye contact.
Some stared back confidently.
One looked nervous.
But nervous didn't mean guilty. Celeb was nervous, but 18-year-old boys running the delivery of cocaine wouldn't be a relaxed child anyway. Caleb was Selene's favorite if that's even a word she knew.
Selene already knew who the rat was.
She had known for two days.
This meeting was simply a confirmation.
She leaned forward slightly.
"Adrian."
The man froze.
Only for half a second.
But Selene saw it.
That was the thing about lies.
They always revealed themselves in the smallest moment of hesitation.
Adrian forced a smile. Adrian never smiled, looking at Selene because his pain of not getting over her was already a mourning for him. Adrian was an addict. He lived on morphine, dangerously proportioned, but today he was clean. Adrian was never clean. His nails, bitten, but the drug on his nose edges, too clean, red rashes means rubbed continuously.
"Yes?"
Selene tilted her head slightly.
"You were responsible for communications yesterday."
"That's right."
"And you confirmed the dock location to the drivers."
"Yes."
Selene rested her chin lightly against her fingers.
Then she asked quietly,
"Would you like to explain why the rival syndicate arrived at that exact location fifteen minutes before our shipment?"
The room went silent.
Completely silent.
In the criminal world, Selene earned a reputation very quickly.
Not for brutality.
But for exposing liars.
More than once, a trusted lieutenant turned out to be a traitor only because Selene quietly watched.
By the time she confronted him, she had already predicted every excuse he would try to give.
"The Woman Who Sees Everything."
Adrian blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"That's impossible," he said quickly. "I would never—"
Selene raised her hand.
He stopped talking instantly.
She removed a small photograph from the folder and slid it across the table.
It stopped directly in front of him.
Adrian looked down.
His face lost all color.
Because the photo showed him standing outside a restaurant two nights ago.
Across the street.
With a known informant from the rival syndicate.
Selene watched his reaction carefully.
Fear.
Shock.
Desperation.
Guilt.
People thought interrogations required violence.
Selene knew better.
Truth revealed itself naturally when someone realized the lie was already exposed.
Adrian's voice came out thin.
"You're misunderstanding—"
The man across from Adrian slowly reached for his gun.
The rest of the room felt colder.
Adrian's breathing grew heavier.
"Boss, please—"
Selene studied him quietly.
Selene stood up slowly.
Every pair of eyes followed her.
She walked around the table with calm, measured steps until she stood behind Adrian.
He didn't look at her.
He couldn't.
Selene placed one hand lightly on the back of his chair.
" I guess loving me always leads to betrayal."
She said so casually as if it wasn't the entire definition of destruction for her. As if it wasn't just a line from her past that always somehow surfaces, and she hated losing control.
A single gunshot shattered the silence.
No one in the room flinched.
Selene adjusted her glasses slightly. Slight prickle of blood on her glasses.
Then she turned toward the others.
"Now," she said calmly,
"Shall we continue the meeting?"
Outside, thunder rolled across the city.
And the men sitting at that table understood something very clearly.
Selene Marcellus missed nothing.