Chapter 6: The act
Dirga jolted awake. The shrill buzz of his phone yanked him from a shallow sleep.
08:00 AM.
His eyes burned, body sore from crashing on the couch. He rubbed his face and checked his messages.
Jane: "Take care. Be careful. Remember Naya."
The words hit harder than they should have. Jane—loud, vulgar, razor-tongued—wasn’t one for sentiment. But beneath her harshness was loyalty, unwavering and absolute. And right now, that loyalty was one of the few things keeping Dirga tethered to reality.
Another message arrived. No words. Just a location pin.
Domiscus Vantasio.
Dirga sighed. The weight of the day already pressed on his shoulders. Today wasn’t about truth or strength.
Today was about theater.
He couldn’t afford a misstep. Not when the stakes weren’t just his life, but something far more permanent.
He suited up. A sleek black tuxedo, freshly pressed. The address Vantasio sent led to a five-star hotel—one of those glass-and-steel empires where people dined with senators and buried secrets beneath designer rugs.