The alert flashed across their screens, white and gold, impossibly bright in the dim command room.
Punishment.
Lyra's silver eyes narrowed, catching the glow. "Finally," she whispered. "He's arrogant, thinks he's untouchable. Tonight… he learns he's not."
Nina tapped her tablet, scanning Alexander Moreau's life. "Every lie. Every smug smile. Every attempt to cover his tracks… it ends tonight. Parents chose punishment. That's our cue."
Kian's fingers danced over multiple keyboards. "I've mapped his routines, friends, security, everything. He won't see us coming. Not a single hint."
Max, adjusting his headset, smirked. "And he'll feel every truth unravel live. Even the untouchable can't hide when we control the game."
Aria leaned against the console. "Fear is easy. But he'll need humiliation, psychological collapse. That's our art."
Mabel cracked her knuckles. "And he will feel every second. Every move, every heartbeat… controlled."
Sophie's calm voice cut through. "We do this clean. Ghosts, livestream, total control. He confesses on our terms, or we escalate. And he'll watch it all."
Roberta's hands trembled slightly as she held the pale mask. "I… I'll be the ghost. He'll think he's seeing her. The one he destroyed. He won't know what's real."
Lyra's lips curved coldly. "Perfect. Kian, feed him everything. Max, livestream. Parents want punishment. Let's deliver it precisely."
The team gathered around the holographic display, every screen alive with Alexander's life: the penthouse, the expensive glassware, the smug expression that had ruined a girl's life. Every detail mapped, every weakness accounted for.
Nina tapped her tablet. "He thinks money and influence protect him. He's wrong. Justice doesn't need a courtroom. It just needs us."
Kian highlighted escape routes, digital feeds, and vulnerabilities. "He's home. Alone. Drinks poured. Music playing. Arrogance at full volume. Perfect timing."
Aria checked tactical gear. "I'll handle distractions. Every shadow, every sound… under our control."
Mabel flexed her muscles. "And if he resists? I'll remind him who controls this game."
Sophie analyzed his contacts. "He trusts his network, but I've mapped them all. He's isolated even when he thinks he's surrounded."
Roberta swallowed, mask in hand. "I… I hope I don't mess this up."
Lyra rested a hand on her shoulder. "You'll be perfect. Fear is our language. Speak it fluently tonight."
Max grinned. "And everyone watching will see the untouchable crumble. Even those denied justice get to witness it. He'll understand consequences."
The golden envelope appeared on Alexander's phone:
"When justice fails, we deliver judgment."
He laughed, dismissive, thinking it a prank. Then the screens flickered. Roberta appeared—pale, silent, hollow-eyed—the ghost of the girl he had destroyed.
Alexander froze, lips parting. "Impossible… she's… she's dead…"
Aria whispered into her headset, "Initiate fear protocol. Make him confess."
And for the first time, Alexander realized he was not in control.
Hours passed in agonizing silence. Every confession was prompted by shadows, ghostly whispers, and subtle manipulations orchestrated by the siblings and besties. His arrogance cracked, then splintered. Every lie exposed. Every secret revealed.
Finally, Kian's fingers paused over the keyboards. "He's done. He's broken."
Nina nodded. "Good. But it's not enough that he confesses. He needs to understand the weight of what's coming."
Lyra's smile was thin, cruel. "Exactly."
Then… a notification pinged on Alexander's phone. A text. Unknown number.
He picked it up, trembling. The screen lit up.
A photo.
The girl. Blood streaked across her face, eyes hollow, hauntingly alive. The background dark, foggy, bloody. The caption beneath:
"I'm coming for you, Aaron."
He stared. Fear clamped his chest. His hand shook violently. His phone slipped from his grasp, smashing against the marble floor.
Lyra leaned back in her chair, her eyes glinting in the dim light. "Let the hunt begin."
The room fell silent, except for the faint hum of servers and the steady, controlled breathing of eight people who had just reminded the world: loyalty is everything. And loyalty is deadly.