Location: VALE MANSION
It's 1:43 AM, rain drizzling over the black marble. The night is still. Even the guards seem subdued, as if the air itself knows something terrible has crossed into their world.
A sleek, matte-black Rolls-Royce glides up the front drive like a hearse. The VALE MANSION is a fortress.. gothic lines, towering blackstone walls. The rain hisses on the electric fence above.
The Rolls stops. A man in a sharp black suit steps out. Pale. Cold. No umbrella. He opens the trunk.
Inside?
A box. Mahogany. Gold-latched.
Slick with fresh blood leaking from the bottom. He carries it to the doorstep.
Sets it down gently. Rings the bell. Then disappears into the night.
At the top of the box... a note, sealed with blood-red wax and a sigil.
A winged serpent coiled around a dagger. The Draven syndicate's sigil.
Written in that meticulous, cutting script:
"Order restored. — G Draven"
---------------------------------------
Location: YASHA'S BEDROOM — 1:45 AM
Yasha Vale is being pinned against the wall and Mike, fully armed with guns holstered is leaning into her, his body pressed close as he's kissing her.
He groans as she slips off his belt, her fingers unbuttoning his trousers as he trails kisses down her neck, lost in the heat of her skin. He pushes his trousers down and lifts her in one swift motion, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as he holds her against the wall.
MIKE
(grunting, head against her neck)
"Fuck, should've knocked... should've ah, hell..."
YASHA
(breath ragged, nails gripping his armored shoulders)
"Don't flatter yourself. I needed to feel something bleed."
He groans as he enters her in a deep and wild motion. Starts thrusting slow with a low guttural groan. Their rhythm is chaotic. Desperate. Two killers dancing with a blade between them.
STATIC BUZZES in Mike's earpiece. It's Viktor - Varek Vale's vault. Stoic. Strategist. Iron soul with a warborn mind. Says little. Sees everything. Shoots only once. Brains of a general, brawn of a battlefield.
VIKTOR (O.S.)(through comms)
(muffled panic)
"Mike. Mike, it's Viktor, where the fuck are you?"
Mike freezes mid-thrust. Jaw tightens. He doesn't answer and resumes thrusting while biting her neck. Yasha exhales against his ear and smirks.
"Ignore it. You're inside something more dangerous right now."
VIKTOR (O.S.)
"Mike, you motherfucker, ANSWER. Boss is dead. Varek's gone. It's a mess. A fucking MESS. We found his HEAD. In a BOX."
Beat of silence.
VIKTOR (O.S.)
"Draven sent it. It's signed."
Mike finally stops...stares at Yasha, who's still pinned to the wall. She blinks. Once. Slowly.
The temperature in the room drops. She lowers her legs.
YASHA
(flatly)
"...Get off me."
Mike steps back. Eyes flickering with alarm.
Yasha adjusts her robe, doesn't bother with shame. Her face is unreadable, porcelain carved by vengeance.
She walks to the wall. Grabs a blade.
YASHA (cont'd)
"Send everyone to lockdown. No one in. No one out."
She slips a knife into her thigh holster.
YASHA (cont'd)
"And bring me that fucking box."
---------------------------------------
Location: VALE MANSION – GRAND FOYER – 1:49 AM
The obsidian marble floor gleams beneath a spreading smear of blood. At its center sits a box, the kind that holds trophies. Tonight, it holds a severed head. Above it all, the gilded Vale crest looms silent. Regal. Watching. Judging.
The double doors burst open.
YASHA VALE enters like a ghost written in blood and silk.
She's barefoot, 5 feet 11 - nearly 6 feet of precision-forged menace, draped in a black silk robe that clings like smoke and trails like a war banner. Her body's all lean muscle and deadly elegance, thighs built to snap necks, shoulders carved by combat. There's no wasted softness, no pretense of fragility. She's a goddess of war in a robe that whispers danger.
Her right hand grips a custom matte-black pistol etched with gold filigree, less a weapon, more an extension of her will. Her nails, blood-red. Scars trace her like old stories... one along her ribs, another across her back. She doesn't hide them. She wears them like medals.
Behind her, MIKE... back in full tactical gear .... moves like a shadow on command.
Around them, VAREK'S MEN are gathered in stunned silence, all eyes locked on the box ... the severed head of Varek Vale, their Boss.
Phones are buzzing. Gun safeties click. One 6 foot something man is weeping silently. Another is on his knees whispering prayers to a god that stopped listening long ago.
Yasha's presence slices through the chaos like a guillotine.
She walks right up to the box. Kneels beside it. The head is neatly severed. Lips curled. Eyes open wide, wild, as if even in death, Varek saw the end coming.
She looks.
Only exhales. Sharp. Controlled. Deadly.
YASHA
(quietly)
"He died afraid. That's the only insult I'll never forgive."
She stands slowly, every movement elegant and terrifying.
YASHA (cont'd)
Voice rising like a blade being unsheathed:
"Where's Anthony?"
A tall man steps forward. Nico, one of the captains. Face pale. Voice grim.
NICO
"Dead. They found him in the lake house with six of our best. Shot execution-style. No signs of struggle."
YASHA
"Which means they trusted the killers."
NICO
"Yes, ma'am. Someone on the inside cleared the path."
She pauses. Brow twitching, just slightly, the only visible crack.
YASHA
(voice low, razor-sharp)
"And the others?"
NICO
"Three lieutenants gone dark. Safehouses torched. Draven's signature..clean, brutal, surgical."
Another guard mutters under his breath:
"It's war. He declared war."
Yasha tilts her head at him, slow and deliberate.
YASHA
"This isn't war. This is a challenge."
She steps forward. Her bare feet echo on the marble as she approaches the center of the room, every man straightening instinctively.
Eyes flicking across them calculating, cold.
YASHA (cont'd)
"You all swore loyalty to Varek Vale."
A beat.
YASHA (cont'd)
"He is dead. But the bloodline lives."
MIKE steps beside her, arms folded, gaze sweeping the room like a loaded rifle.
YASHA (cont'd)
"I don't need your mourning. I need your vengeance. I need your silence. Your loyalty."
(She gestures to the box)
"He sent a message. I'll write my reply in bone."
VIKTOR (from the side, still on his comms)
"We've intercepted chatter. Draven's people are moving. Coordinated hits. He's targeting us one by one. He didn't just want the throne, he's cleansing the board."
YASHA smirks.
"Then let's flip the board."
Another voice, older LUCIAN, a grizzled ex-mercenary and Varek's most trusted veteran.
LUCIAN
"There are some who won't follow you. Traditionalists. They'll see a woman in lace, not a general."
Yasha walks up to him, toe to toe, and presses the barrel of her gun under his chin with a casual elegance.
YASHA
Deadpan.
"Then let them see a corpse."
He doesn't flinch but he does smile. Nods once.
LUCIAN
"Understood, mam."
The room shifts. The title hits like a gavel.
YASHA
(quietly, more to herself)
"Gavros Draven... that bastard with the ego of a mill and the dick of a peanut."
Beat.
YASHA (cont'd)
"You killed my father to provoke me. Fine. You'll learn soon enough... I don't need a king to be a goddamn goddess."
Mike steps beside her again. Hands her a phone.
MIKE
"We've got Draven's last known location. Manhattan. East side. Private club. Codename: Eden."
YASHA
(grins darkly)
"How poetic. Let's burn Eden to the fucking ground."
YASHA
(steps forward, eyes sweeping the room)
"One last thing."
The room quiets further , the kind of silence that presses against the walls.
She looks at each man, one by one, like she's memorizing their pulse.
YASHA (cont'd)
"If any of you..."
(a smile like broken glass)
"don't trust me with the legacy , you're free to walk. Right now. No judgment. No bullets. Just the door."
Beat. No one moves.
YASHA (cont'd)
(softer, deadlier)
"But if you leave this house tonight, I will assume you've chosen your side."
Her voice sharpens like a scalpel.
YASHA (cont'd)
"And when I come to chop off those dicks you joined..."
(she cocks the gun lazily)
"You'll be the first to burn."
No one breathes. Even the shadows stand still.
MIKE
(dryly, under his breath)
"We doing dicks now, huh?"
Yasha doesn't look at him... just takes one step closer to the group.
YASHA
"You think I'm soft because I have tits and a silk robe. Varek raised me in blood, and Gavros just handed me the match."
LUCIAN, still recovering from her earlier gun-to-chin move, just nods grimly.
LUCIAN
"Anyone who doubts her can come see me after. I'll personally help them pack... for hell."
There's a low rumble of grim laughter. Nervous. Half-afraid. Half-in awe. The men are hers now. Her father's legacy will be carried by her now.
YASHA
(turns back toward the head in the box)
"Get it frozen. I want it mounted. Right above my father's throne. Every time I walk past, I want to remember what I owe that bastard."
VIKTOR
(coming in again through earpiece)
"There's more. We just cracked their comms. Draven's team is calling this 'the Decapitation Game.' First Varek, then his empire."
Yasha smiles ... something jagged, elegant, and lethal.
YASHA
"Then let's flip the board and start taking heads. One by one."
The lights flicker once. Thunder growls in the distance. And in the heart of Vale Mansion, a new queen sharpens her crown with a blade and an oath to vengeance.....