From an unknown location:

  Click.

  "Gateman003 calling," a distorted voice queried.

  "Please standby," a robotic voice replied. Ping.

  Your call is being directed.

  Ping.

  "Hi, Gate-man-0-0-1," the voice was masculine, albeit distorted, but not as vague as the first voice. He picked up his phone and replied carefully.

  "The warning must spread in every newspaper, every tabloid, every fucking platform. They should know who killed their little puppy by the end of 24 hours."

  The phone clicked without a care.

  "I will take care of it, ma'am. It’ll be done," Jimmy said, to nobody in particular.

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  He leaned back in his chair, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. His fingers drummed absently on the armrest, eyes narrowing as he processed the task at hand. The plan was set in motion. No turning back now. He couldn’t afford hesitation. Everything had to fall into place.

  Then, his nephew Ravi entered, accompanied by his friend Eli. They shared a celebratory moment, a little Sauternes to mark the completion of their first job. "Revenge for his nephew—and in an afterthought, his friend." A little promotion on the side, too. They said their goodbyes in high spirits, completely unaware of the darker dealings unfolding that night.

  As they closed the door behind them, the room fell back into silence.

  ***

  The hum of distant machinery echoed from the other side of the wall. Jimmy’s mind raced, calculating his next move. His empire—his control—was on the line. One misstep could unravel everything. There was no room for failure.

  Suddenly, the telephone screamed to life. "Who?" The sound of the ringing was like a warning in itself. No one should know this number… except the few who mattered. Jimmy’s hand clenched around the armrest as sweat broke out across his brow, despite the cool basement air. This was the moment that mattered.

  "Leverage: Control," he reminded himself, forcing his breathing to steady.

  He reached for the phone. "Yeah?" His voice was colder than before, steady, though the tension was palpable.

  ***