“The sharpest fangs wear the kindest smiles.”

  Rain slicked the streets as black-tinted limousines pulled up one by one to the Carlton Summit Hall, where politicians whispered secrets, business moguls traded influence, and hands stained with money still wore wedding bands.

  Inside the marble halls, the lighting was golden and soft — perfect for hiding shadows.

  Among the crowd, in a tailored navy-blue suit and a forged identity backed by three different nation-state databases, Dominion Agent Rafael Dane moved like a shark in champagne.

  He wasn’t just another liaison from a “newly funded tech NGO.” He was Rex’s whisper, sent to observe, seed influence, and remind the powerful: they were being watched.

  “You’re from Aeon Future Labs?” asked Senator Perry, sipping bourbon.

  “Yes, we specialize in socio-quantum prediction models,” Rafael smiled warmly. “We help governments predict civilian unrest... before it happens.”

  “Interesting,” Perry said, intrigued. “But also sounds… invasive.”

  “So is a biopsy,” Rafael replied, smiling with eerie charm. “But it saves lives.”

  Rex stood in front of a massive digital map. Alfred handed him a tablet displaying financial data, political lobbying reports, and movement logs of three U.S. senators.

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  “Rafael's making contact. But the intel from our DC moles says the Aurelian Pact has a mole embedded within the White House cyber division,” Alfred reported.

  “Name?”

  “Classified. Even from internal agents. Whoever it is, they’ve been deleting our predictive markers and replacing them with ghost trails.”

  Rex’s eyes narrowed.

  “Time to bring in the White Devil.”

  In a back-alley, beneath layers of fake internet cafes and burner servers, Juno stood over an old man with trembling hands. He was a former NSA AI architect who had fled after an ethical scandal.

  “You knew the leak would surface eventually,” Juno said softly.

  “I didn’t betray the Pact…”

  “Then help us find who did,” she snapped, slapping down a screen showing an altered AI signature.

  “That’s… impossible. This protocol isn’t ours. It’s been spliced. Half ours. Half something... I’ve never seen.”

  “That’s because it’s Dominion’s,” she said. “It’s the White Devil’s echo.”

  Rex, in his early thirties, stood in a low-tier intelligence briefing room as a consultant under a different name. Back then, he was observing power — now, he controlled it.

  He had watched the games politicians played. How lives were traded for budgets. How heroes were erased for headlines.

  “This is where kings don’t wear crowns,” he once muttered.

  A senator nearby had laughed.

  “You sound like a revolutionary.”

  “No,” Rex replied. “Revolutions fail. I prefer... replacement.”

  Rafael stood alone on the balcony, watching the lights of the Capitol shimmer in the drizzle.

  His earpiece clicked.

  “Report,” Rex’s voice came through.

  “Aurelian presence confirmed. Senator Perry is sympathetic, but there’s chatter that Bellante is personally funding some D.C. tech black ops.”

  “Find the backdoor.”

  “Already done. They’ve got a lobbyist pushing for an AI surveillance bill. If passed, they can use it to hunt for us globally.”

  Rex’s tone turned ice-cold.

  “Then kill the bill.”

  “And if that fails?”

  “Kill the lobbyist.”