The clouds hung low over the city like a velvet curtain waiting to drop. Skyscrapers pierced the gray sky, their glass faces catching the last bits of dying sunlight like cold flames trapped in steel. The wind moved through alleyways, brushing along the rooftops.

  At the curb in front of Grayson Tower — a monolithic structure of obsidian glass and industrial elegance — three men stood still in black suits, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses despite the dull sky. Their hands were clasped in front of them, waiting. Watching.

  Then came the sound.

  Tires against pavement.

  A black SUV slowed at the curb, sleek and silent. It didn’t idle long. The back door opened smoothly, and Iris stepped out first — composed as ever, her eyes scanning the entrance before the heels of her boots even touched the ground.

  Next came Marcus, broad-shouldered and calm, his gaze flicking to the nearest guard like he was sizing up a potential sparring partner.

  Darren followed, adjusting his collar, shoulders loose but not relaxed — like someone who knew they might have to move fast at any moment.

  Then Evan stepped out, slinging the SUV door shut behind him with one arm and pulling his jacket tight against the wind.

  And then finally…

  Kai.

  The door opened slowly.

  His foot touched the pavement like the moment itself was waiting on him.

  Kai stepped out, eyes unreadable.

  The three suited men straightened.

  One of them stepped forward and opened the door to the building’s entrance.

  “This way,” he said, his voice clipped and formal.

  The group walked together, moving like they belonged there.

  Inside, the lobby was as silent as it was sleek — marble floors, polished walls that stretched up and up into gold-veined ceilings. There were no crowds, no distractions. Only the quiet hum.

  And at the far end of it all…

  The private elevator waited — doors open.

  As they stepped in and the lift rose without a sound, none of them spoke.

  They didn’t need to.

  The elevator stopped with a whisper-soft chime.

  The doors slid open.

  Two more guards stood just outside the elevator, their hands loosely folded in front of them. Neither spoke. Neither needed to. One simply nodded toward the end of the hall.

  At the end: the double-door office, it opened just before they reached it.

  And Mr. Grayson stood inside.

  He wasn’t seated. He stood by the wide window behind his desk, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a tumbler of something dark. When he turned, his expression was unreadable — sharp, but not cold.

  “Kai,” he said, voice smooth and direct. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  Kai stepped forward calmly, the rest of the team hanging back just enough to give him space without looking like bodyguards — though the impression still lingered.

  “You invited us,” Kai said, simply.

  Grayson nodded once. “And you delivered.”

  He motioned toward a small seating area off to the side — modern leather chairs around a dark stone table. Not the boardroom. Not the desk.

  This wasn’t a business pitch.

  This was personal.

  They sat. The butler from before entered quietly, offering drinks. Kai declined. So did the others.

  Mr. Grayson didn’t seem offended.

  He lowered himself into the chair across from Kai, took a sip from his glass, then set it down with care.

  “The shipment arrived,” he said. “Perfectly. Right on time.”

  Kai nodded.

  “I told you it would.”

  Grayson exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on him.

  “I had people scrambling to solve that problem. And not one of them could get it done.” He leaned back slightly. “Then you tell me not to worry. And somehow. He shook his head. “It just… worked.”

  Kai said nothing.

  Grayson stared at him for another moment.

  “Name your price,” he said.

  Kai’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “No price.”

  Grayson blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “We didn’t do it for payment,” Kai said. “We did it because you needed our help.”

  Iris, sitting at the far end, studied Grayson closely. She could see the confusion blooming behind his composed expression — not doubt, but surprise. She marked every tick of his fingers, every shift in his tone.

  Evan, just behind Kai, watched him with a quiet kind of admiration. He’d seen Kai plan, lead… but watching him navigate this? A conversation with a man who owned half the skyline? He didn’t know how he stayed that calm.

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  Grayson leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

  “You do realize,” he said slowly, “that no one says that. Ever. Especially after saving someone’s daughter and solving a corporate crisis in one week.”

  Kai only shrugged. “Maybe they should.”

  Grayson laughed once — not mocking, just genuinely caught off guard.

  “You’re either a saint… or something else entirely.”

  “I’m someone who keeps his word,” Kai said. “That’s all.”

  Grayson studied him, long and hard.

  “I don’t usually ask twice,” he said. “But I want to offer you something else.”

  Kai tilted his head slightly.

  “There’s a dinner. Tomorrow night. It’s not public. No press. Just… people. Influential ones. I host it once a quarter.”

  He looked directly at Kai.

  “I want you there.”

  Kai didn’t answer immediately.

  He sat back in the chair, fingertips steepled lightly in thought. Behind his eyes, the calculus had already begun — what this could mean. What it could offer.

  And still… he nodded.

  “We’ll come.”

  Grayson nodded in return. “Good.”

  There was a silence then, not awkward, but weighted — like both sides had silently acknowledged something important.

  Grayson stood.

  So did Kai.

  The rest of the group moved in sync — rising, steady.

  As they turned to leave, Grayson called out once more.

  “Kai.”

  Kai looked over his shoulder.

  “If you ever change your mind… about payment, about anything. I want people like you around me.”

  Kai smile.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They walked out as they came — in silence, in unity.

  And behind them, Grayson stood for a long time, still holding his glass.

  The drive back was quiet, but not tense — more like the calm after something significant, a silence each member respected in their own way. The villa stood as it always had: poised on its quiet hill, its sharp lines giving it the presence of something more than a house.

  As the group stepped out of the SUV and filed inside, Felix was already waiting in the entryway, a mug of tea in one hand and eyes glued to the front door. He had been watching the building’s external feeds the whole time.

  He didn’t waste time.

  “How was it?” he asked, directing the question at Iris before anyone had even fully removed their coats. “Grayson’s office. What happened?”

  “It went well,” she said, voice calm but precise. “Better than I expected.”

  Felix raised an eyebrow. “Define well.”

  Iris moved toward the couch, gesturing for the others to sit as she began explaining. She recounted Grayson’s demeanor, the way he’d greeted them, the weight in his voice when he spoke to Kai. The part about the shipment arriving on time. The disbelief. The unspoken awe. The invitation to the dinner.

  Jonah leaned forward, eyes wide. “Wait—he invited you all to some rich-people dinner?”

  “Tomorrow night,” Iris confirmed, folding one leg over the other.

  Felix let out a low whistle. “Damn. And Kai just handled it like it was nothing?”

  Iris gave the faintest smile. “You should’ve seen him. Composed. Controlled. He didn’t flinch once.”

  Felix turned, almost instinctively, looking down the hallway toward Kai’s room.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Went straight to his room,” Darren said, arms crossed. “Didn’t say a word. Just nodded and left.”

  No one questioned it.

  They all understood.

  Kai had done something that most of them still couldn’t wrap their heads around — not just handling a billionaire, but helping him in a way none of his resources could. And doing it without blinking.

  In silence, Kai’s footsteps had carried him up the stairs, the hum of conversation fading behind him. He moved through the hall like someone walking between realities.

  He reached his room.

  The door clicked shut behind him.

  No lights.

  Just the low glow of the lamp on his desk, illuminating the edges of the bookshelves and casting long, soft shadows across the wall. The familiar quiet wrapped around him like an old coat. Here, there were no suits. No glasses clinking. No men in expensive shoes trying to buy his loyalty.

  Just thoughts.

  And the next move.

  Kai sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled slowly, fingers laced together. Grayson’s words echoed in his mind:

  “I’ve never met someone like you.”

  Neither had the others. Not really. Not even his own team fully understood the scope of what he was building — not yet.

  He stared at the floor for a long moment.

  Then stood up.

  He needed to plan.

  Because tomorrow night, he wouldn’t just be attending a dinner.

  He would be stepping into a new arena — one where power wasn’t taken by force… but by influence.

  And he intended to take it all.

  But first, Kai had something else to take care of.

  He sat still for a moment in the shadows of his room, letting the silence soak through the hum left by Mr. Grayson’s praise — the gravity of being seen by a man with that kind of influence.

  Yet beneath it all… a different voice echoed.

  Ms. Halden’s.

  “It’s not about forcing change. It’s about guiding it through structure.”

  Her words hadn’t left him since that night. Not for a moment. They clung to the corners of his mind.

  Imagine in detail. Not just the result — the process. Everything adapting without breaking.

  If you do it right, the universe will follow your lead. If you don’t… it’ll fill in the blanks for you. And that’s when things go wrong.

  He stood.

  Crossed the room.

  Slid open the wall panel to the hallway behind the library and descended the narrow steps.

  The basement was still cool, dimly lit by strips of old LED tape lining the walls. It hummed faintly — the quiet pulse of tech left idle but alert.

  The cages sat in their corner — three of them, each housing a different test subject. Rats. Small, clever, and chosen for their ability to adapt quickly. One was currently gnawing a corner of the plastic food tray. Another was pacing, restless. The third just sat still, watching him.

  He knelt.

  “I’m going to try something new,” Kai said quietly.

  He didn’t speak to the rats often, but tonight felt different. More deliberate.

  He closed his eyes. Slowed his breath. Let his body settle.

  Then he allowed his consciousness to slip.

  It was second nature now — the moment when the air thinned, when the world became still enough to breathe through without lungs. He stepped outside himself like a diver moving into water he’d memorized the shape of.

  He saw the room in soft haze. The smoke-like threads of reality clung to the edges of his physical form. The rats pulsed gently with dim light — their lives, their patterns, waiting to be shifted.

  He chose the one pacing. Agile. Strong.

  And then… he began to imagine.

  A single leap — powerful, clean.

  He saw the rat crouch. Then leap — straight up — clearing the height of the cage with ease.

  That was the first part.

  But he didn’t stop there.

  He saw it land. Skitter. Look around.

  He focused on that image. Locked it in.

  Leap. Land. No change.

  Then he returned to his body.

  His eyes opened — slow, deliberate.

  Nothing happened for at first.

  Then the rat froze. Its whiskers twitched. It turned to the cage wall… and jumped.

  Higher than before. High enough to hit the top of the cage with a soft metallic rattle.

  Kai’s heart thudded once — but then stilled again.

  The rat landed — and crouched.

  Then its back legs flexed.

  The muscle along its haunches rippled. Its shape began to shift — just slightly.

  The legs grew thicker. Longer.

  Its entire frame stretched… subtly, but enough to notice.

  It was still a rat.

  But bigger.

  Unnaturally so.

  Kai stared, jaw tight. The rat looked stronger — more capable. But its proportions were wrong now. Its gait had changed. A different kind of creature. Not broken… but not right either.

  He realized the flaw.

  He had imagined the result… but not the supporting memory — not the continuity. The universe had accepted his command, but not on his terms.

  He turned to the second cage.

  This time, he moved slower.

  He stepped out of his body again, the mist rising around him like smoke from invisible coals.

  He pictured the second rat — its fur, its twitching tail, its eyes.

  Then the leap.

  Still a rat.

  Same proportions. Same limbs. No change. No stretch.

  But then, he added something new.

  Clarity.

  He imagined the limbs looking exactly the same during the motion. Same joints. Same fur. No tearing. No reshaping. Just… efficient motion.

  He held it longer.

  His breath slowed. His focus narrowed.

  Then he returned.

  The second rat blinked.

  Then, like the first, it turned and leapt — higher than any rat should. It smacked the top of the cage. Fell. Landed.

  Kai smiled.

  But the smile didn’t last.

  The rat stumbled.

  Its legs quivered.

  Small streaks of red started to bloom around the paws. It turned in a circle — limping.

  Kai’s eyes widened.

  He knelt, looked closer.

  Tears.

  Tiny rips along the back of the legs and forearms. Skin stretched too far. Muscles pushing harder than the casing could handle.

  It had worked… but only halfway.

  The image had preserved form — but not resilience.

  Kai leaned back on his heels, exhaling through his nose.

  Still wrong.

  Still incomplete.

  The rat wasn’t supposed to suffer for change.

  He stood. Thought.

  What had he missed?

  Then it came to him — quiet as a whisper at the edge of his thoughts.

  He needed to imagine the rat being fine after the leap. Not just landing — but thriving.

  Not bleeding. Not damaged. Just… breathing normally. Running. Whole.

  That, too, had to be part of the memory.

  He turned to the third cage.

  Closed his eyes.

  Slipped out.

  This time, he visualized it all — the crouch, the leap, the apex, the landing.

  But then…

  He added more.

  He imagined the rat stretching, turning in a circle, sniffing. Licking its paw. Calm. Unchanged in shape. Powerful in motion. Relaxed in stillness.

  It had done something impossible — and remained whole.

  He burned that memory into his mind.

  The leap didn’t break the rat. It belonged to it.

  Then he slipped back into his body — slow, like surfacing from a deep dive.

  The rat blinked.

  Waited.

  Then leapt.

  The cage clanged.

  It landed — cleanly.

  And stood.

  No wobble.

  No limp.

  It turned once, sniffed the air, then began cleaning its paws.

  Kai stepped closer — watching for any sign of a mistake.

  But this time…

  There was nothing wrong.

  The rat remained a rat.

  Just better.

  He stood still, watching the third one as it flexed, moved, and rested like it hadn’t just defied the laws of biology.

  This wasn’t a mutation.

  It wasn’t a miracle.

  It was an imagination made real — and finally, flawlessly written.

  Kai nodded once to himself.

  It had taken three tries.

  But now, he knew what the process needed.

  Precision. Continuity. Aftermath.

  He exhaled.

  This wasn’t just a breakthrough.

  It was a new beginning.

  The soft shuffle of the rates paws on the straw-lined floor was the only sound in the room.

  Kai reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

  A few taps. Then the call rang once… twice…

  “Boss,” Evan’s voice answered, casual, muffled by the hum of whatever room he was in.

  “Basement,” Kai said. “Now.”

  He hung up before Evan could ask questions.

  Kai slipped the phone away and let his eyes linger on the rat for a moment longer.

  This time, he hadn’t forced change.

  He had invited it — on his terms.

  That thought stayed with him as he turned away from the cages and stepped back from the experiments that had, until now, only existed in theory.

  As he waited, his thoughts shifted.

  Evan.

  That conversation from days ago returned, playing again in his mind with eerie clarity.

  “I want to be able to do what Marcus and Darren did,” Evan had said. “Move like that. React like that.”

  Kai hadn’t responded then. Not with anything concrete.

  But now?

  Now he had a method.

  It wouldn’t be like the first experiments. Not random. Not desperate.

  He had tested.

  Refined.

  Failed — and learned.

  And now, he was ready.

  The basement door creaked open above him, and footsteps echoed down the stairs.

  Evan appeared a second later, hoodie half-zipped.

  Kai turned toward the cages, then back to Evan.

  “It’s time,” he said.

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