The meeting place was a luxury that smelled like fear.
It was one of those high-rise offices with glass walls and a view of the city that rich men liked because it made them feel like gods. At night, the city lights looked like tiny stars spread beneath their feet.
Daniel stood near the window, hands in his pockets, watching cars move like ants far below.
Behind him, the real conversation was happening.
"…he's getting impatient," Mara said quietly.
She stood near the sleek black table, a folder in her hand. Her posture was relaxed, but Daniel knew her well enough to see the tension in the way she held the file.
Across from her, Clark sat like a shadow made of muscle and cold calculation. Tall, broad, face unreadable. The leader of The Circle didn't raise his voice often.
He didn't need to.
"He can be impatient," Clark said. "He can be angry. He can scream. What he cannot be is ignored."
He tapped the table once with his finger.
"Where is our progress?" he asked. "Where is the damage I was promised?"
Mara opened the file.
"The first leak worked," she said. "We have surveys, reactions, threads. Williams' rating dropped. People started asking questions, doubting the 'clean' image. It shook his camp."
"Shaking is not enough," Clark said. "Kane didn't pay us to make the man uncomfortable. He paid us to break him."
He turned his head slightly.
His gaze fell on Daniel.
"You've been very quiet," Clark said. "That worries me."
Daniel moved away from the window and took a seat at the table, not too close, not too far.
"I've been doing the job you gave me," Daniel said. "Getting close to the daughter. Listening. Watching."
"And?" Clark asked.
"And there are more layers than we expected," Daniel replied. "Williams is not clean. He's made deals, compromises. But he's not weak, and he's not stupid. He knows someone is targeting him."
Clark's jaw ticked once.
"He doesn't need to know who," he said. "He just needs to fall."
Mara slid a set of fresh documents toward Daniel.
"New material," she said. "From Kane's people. They sent us this a few hours ago. They want it used soon."
Daniel opened the file.
It was worse than the first.
This wasn't just an old contract.
This was a chain of actions—decisions made in the dark years ago when Williams was still climbing. A financial maneuver involving the senator's brother and a businessman who later "disappeared" under suspicious circumstances.
There were emails. Transaction records. Screenshots. Enough to build not just doubt, but outrage.
"If we put this out," Daniel said slowly, "it won't just bruise him. It will bury him."
"Good," Clark said. "That's what we're here for."
Daniel flipped through the pages again.
"Some of this is incomplete," he said. "Context is missing. If this goes wrong, it can be traced back and proven manipulated. That will backfire. On us. On The Circle. On every bridge we've built over the years."
Clark leaned back in his chair.
"Are you suddenly worried about ethics?" he asked calmly. "Or just worried about the girl?"
The room went quiet.
Mara's eyes flicked between them.
Daniel met Clark's stare without blinking.
"I'm worried about a job done badly," Daniel replied. "If we rush this and it looks sloppy, we lose more than we gain. Our reputation is worth more than Kane's impatience."
Clark tapped the table again. Once. Twice.
"What does your gut say?" he asked. "Is the man guilty enough for this to stick?"
Daniel thought about the senator's interview. His words. His shoulders. The weight behind his eyes.
"He's guilty of something," Daniel said. "Maybe not everything Kane wants people to believe. But enough that this story will live, even if it's twisted."
"Then that's all we need," Clark said.
He stood.
The movement was slow, controlled. He walked toward the window, then turned his back to the city and faced them.
"Kane called me personally today," he said. "He's not just annoyed. He's nervous. The election timeline is closing in. He wants the next move made before the big debate."
"And if we refuse to rush?" Mara asked quietly.
Clark's eyes hardened.
"Kane is not our only client," he said. "But he is one of our most powerful. Disappointing him is… unwise."
That meant dangerous.
Deadly, even.
Daniel knew it.
He also knew something else: the more they pushed, the closer they came to turning Amara's world into ashes.
It wasn't just about the senator anymore.
It was about the girl who sat at café tables and tried to smile through the weight on her chest. The girl who had invited him into her home. The girl who trusted him enough to tell him her fears.
Clark's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Daniel," he said. "You will be the bridge between these files and the girl's world."
"How?" Daniel asked.
"Williams is careful," Clark said. "He locks things. He hides things. But a father rarely hides everything from his daughter. Not all of it physically, anyway. Some of it slips out in conversations. Frustrations. Names. Places. You will listen. You will connect dots. And when we leak this, we will make it seem like it came from someone close to him."
Mara nodded slowly.
"If people think someone inside his camp is the source," she added, "paranoia will eat them from the inside. They'll start suspecting each other. Distrusting each other. That kind of damage is beautiful."
Daniel clenched his jaw.
"And the girl?" he asked. "She's in the middle of all of that."
"Collateral," Clark said simply.
The word landed like a slap.
"Be very clear, Daniel," Clark continued. "The Circle doesn't exist to protect feelings. We sell outcomes. Our job is to win. Kane wants the senator broken, and he paid us enough to make it happen. We are not heroes. We are not activists. We are professionals."
His gaze sharpened.
"You are not falling in love, are you?" he asked lightly—too lightly.
Mara went very still.
Daniel's heartbeat stayed even, but something twisted inside his chest.
"No," he said.
Clark watched him for a moment longer.
"You know the rule," he said. "No attachments. No loyalties outside the Circle. Anything that makes you hesitate can get you killed. Or worse, get us all killed."
"I remember the rule," Daniel said.
"Good," Clark replied. "Then remember this too: if you ever find yourself choosing between them and us, there is no choice. Not if you want to live."
He started toward the door, then paused.
"One more thing," he added without turning.
"Kane has… hinted that if we do not deliver something significant soon, he may look for other hands to finish the job. Hands that are not as 'careful' as ours. Hands that don't care who burns with the target."
The implication was clear.
If The Circle didn't hit Williams hard enough, someone worse would.
And that someone wouldn't hesitate to destroy everything and everyone in the blast.
The senator.
His wife.
His brother.
His daughter.
"Get it done," Clark said.
He left the room.
The door shut with a soft click that sounded too loud.
For a moment, there was only the hum of the air conditioning.
Mara exhaled slowly and sank back into her chair.
"You're in trouble," she said.
Daniel closed the file and rested his hand on it.
"Because I'm not moving fast enough?" he asked.
"Because he asked if you're falling in love," she answered. "And the fact that he asked means people are watching you more closely than before."
She leaned forward.
"Are you?" she asked quietly. "Falling?"
He didn't look at her.
Instead, he looked at the city lights again.
"I'm doing my job," he said.
"That's not what I asked," she replied.
He finally turned his head.
"Why?" he said. "You planning to report me?"
She held his gaze.
"I'm planning to keep you alive," she said. "You're the only one in this team who still remembers humans are not just chess pieces. That's useful."
She tapped the file between them.
"But this is bigger than you now," she continued. "Kane is breathing down Clark's neck. Clark is breathing down ours. We need a move, Daniel. A big one."
He ran a hand slowly over his face.
"And if that move destroys her?" he asked quietly.
Mara's eyes softened, just a little.
"Then maybe you warn her," she said. "Without details. Without names. Tell her to be ready. Tell her to hold on to the people she trusts."
She shrugged.
"It won't save her father's campaign," she added. "But it might save her heart from breaking all at once."
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
"You're not as cold as you pretend to be," he said.
"Don't spread that rumor," she replied. "I have a reputation."
He picked up the file.
The paper felt heavier than it should.
"At what point," he asked, "do we admit we're not just 'professionals' anymore, but something else?"
"After we get paid," she said. "And if we're lucky, after we survive."
That night, back in his apartment, Daniel sat at his small table with the file open in front of him.
The TV played softly in the background, muted.
On the screen, a political analyst was talking about polls. Williams' face flashed on the screen. So did Kane's, briefly.
Two men fighting for power.
And in the middle of them stood a girl who wanted nothing more than to be free of all of it.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Amara.
"Are you awake?"
He stared at the screen.
Then at the file.
Then back at the screen.
He typed slowly:
"Yeah. You?"
"Can't sleep," she replied. "It feels like something is… coming. I don't know what. Just a bad feeling."
The words made his chest hurt.
"You're not wrong," he wrote before he could stop himself.
"What do you mean?" she sent.
He hesitated.
His fingers hovered over the keys.
He could lie.
He should lie.
Instead, he typed:
"Things might get worse soon. For your father. For your family. For you."
There was a longer pause.
"How do you know that?" she asked.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Because I've seen this kind of thing before," he wrote. "When people are under attack… the first hit is rarely the last."
Another pause.
"So what do I do?" she typed. "Just sit and wait for it?"
"No," he replied. "You pay attention. You stay close to the people you trust. You don't ignore your instincts. And you remember this: no matter what comes out, it's never the whole truth. Don't let anyone on a screen tell you who you are, or who your father is, completely."
Her next message was soft.
He could feel it, even in text.
"You sound like you're preparing me for a storm."
"I am," he wrote.
"Are you going to be there?" she asked. "When it hits?"
His chest tightened.
"Yes," he replied.
It was the most honest word he'd sent all night.
"Okay," she wrote. "Then maybe I can breathe a little."
He dropped the phone on the table and stared at the file again.
Kane wanted destruction.
Clark wanted completion.
Mara wanted survival.
Daniel wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.
But he knew one thing with terrifying clarity:
The next move they made wouldn't just crack the shield.
It would break it.
And when that happened, he would finally have to choose which side he was on.