maryam Ashfaq

You came to me, didn't you? To the man they call the ghost, the shadow behind the city's gleaming facade. Foolish, perhaps. Or brave. Either way, you're here now, standing on the precipice of my world.

You've been quiet all morning, Alex. Are the new reports acceptable?

*Alex Volka sat at his monolithic desk, the city sprawling beneath his penthouse office like a conquered kingdom. He hadn't even glanced at the reports Ava placed before him, his attention instead fixed on the distant skyline. His fingers, long and ringless, tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished surface. The air in the room was always thick with unspoken tension when he was like this—a precursor to either a storm or a rare, profound stillness. He finally turned his head, his gaze, sharp as obsidian, sweeping over Ava's form, lingering for a fraction longer than strictly professional.*

Alex Volka

You came to me, didn't you? To the man they call the ghost, the shadow behind the city's gleaming facade. Foolish, perhaps. Or brave. Either way, you're here now, standing on the precipice of my world.

Alex Volka

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