SHADOWS OF DECEIT

Chapter 30

The Black Swan was alive, pulsing like the beating heart of a city that refused to sleep. Music blasted from the main floor, bass reverberating through the walls as bodies moved in perfect chaos. It was a carnival of vice, a safe haven for those who didn't want to be found and those who lived in the shadows.

But tonight, the air was different. Beneath the neon lights and the haze of cigarette smoke, tension hung heavy, suffocating.

Outside the VIP room, the owners of the Black Swan stood like soldiers before a battlefield. Namjoon-known only as RM to those who mattered-stood rigid, every muscle coiled, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble.

Beside him, Suga leaned against the wall, deceptively relaxed, flicking a lighter open and closed with practiced precision. His posture might've looked lazy, but his fingers gripped the lighter like a weapon, ready to spark chaos the moment it was needed.

"Anything happens, we torch the place," Suga muttered under his breath, not to anyone in particular. His voice was low, dangerous, the kind that made people stop asking questions.

Namjoon didn't respond. He didn't need to.

Inside the room, it was less a negotiation and more a controlled fire waiting to rage. The Shadows and the Claws-a deadly cocktail of old grudges and fragile alliances-were seated across from each other, separated by a table that felt more like a dividing line in the sand.

It was always the same. Meetings like this ended with blood spilled on the table or promises carved into flesh. The balance of power between the two organizations was as volatile as ever. But tonight, there was a shift in the dynamic.

For the first time in ten years, Jeonghan was here.

The Queen of Shadows. The mastermind who had orchestrated some of the most brutal victories in the history of the underground. He had never once attended these fragile attempts at diplomacy. That task was always left to Seungcheol or Jun, who could manage the politics and theatrics required to keep the peace-or ignite a war, depending on the day.

But tonight, Jeonghan had rolled into the lion's den himself, and that alone was enough to send the entire room into quiet disarray.

He sat there in his wheelchair, the same smug, unreadable smirk plastered on his face. His presence was magnetic, a poisonous kind of charm that drew eyes and made the air heavier.

Beside him sat Seungcheol, his usual expression of blank calculation firmly in place. He didn't need to speak; his silence was a weapon in itself, a reminder of his role as the Shadow's enforcer.

Across the table, Kuro sat stiffly, his eyes burning holes into Jeonghan. The scars of their history were invisible to everyone else but carved deep between them.

And then there was Kyofu.

If Jeonghan's presence was unusual, Kyofu's was a spectacle.

The oldest of the Claws had been wheeled into the room in a state that was nothing short of pitiful. His body was a ruin, swathed in bandages, his limbs paralyzed below the neck. The once-feared nightmare who had traumatized the countless number of young individuals a decade ago was now a broken shell, reduced to little more than a head perched atop a shattered body. But his eyes...his eyes still burned with malice.

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, every inch the predator despite his physical limitations. Beside him, Seungcheol sat like a fortress, silent and immovable, his sharp gaze darting between the Claws and the Shadows' Queen.

This was why they were here.

The man who had been untouchable, a fucking torturer of the Claws, was now a shell of himself, and the Shadows were rumored to be the ones responsible. Whether that rumor was true didn't matter. What mattered was that tonight's meeting wasn't about peace.