Sirens climbed the concrete facade of the office block in an uneven howl. Red and blue strobes sheared across grimy glass, slicing the sterile floor in alternating bands. Damyan slammed his palm against the laminate desk. “They’ll be on this floor in three minutes. The front security doors will hold, but the delivery bay at the rear is standard sheet metal.” Halina surveyed the room. The ceiling duct was barely thirty centimeters wide, and the windows were fixed plates over a forty-foot drop. The terminal display glowed with the route logs, but carrying the drive meant nothing if the squad below pinned them to the floorboards. “We aren't waiting for a raid team,” she said, pulling a sat phone from her coat lining. “Only one player in Radecz has the transport grid to pull us out before the perimeter seals.” Damyan turned, his mouth turning down. “Kasprzak.” “He has capital tangled in Borowicz supply lines, and Serafima’s fire sale threatens every share he holds.” She punched nine digits from memory into the receiver. It rang twice before a dry voice answered: “Kasprzak.” “Halina Voroń. We need extraction.” “The sirens carry through the receiver, Hyena,” Piotr said, unhurried. “Did you find what you needed?” “Serafima isn’t merely framing Damyan; she’s orchestrating a structured insolvency to strip the firm down to debt shells,” Halina said, reading the lane coordinates off the wall plaque. “We have the ledger archives, but the building is surrounded. If we’re booked tonight, your industrial warrants freeze along with the holding shares.” Tires screeched on wet gravel below. Kasprzak’s voice came back without inflection: “Clear the stairwell and wait by the rear freight ramp. Do not engage the tactical unit. And remember, Halina—the retainers change the moment I pull you off the ledge.” He hung up. Damyan stared at her. “What was that about ‘our original agreement’?” “Later.” Halina moved to the window, peering down. The street was swarming. Tactical units were establishing a perimeter. “He’s our only play.” Six minutes later, a heavy-duty transport truck, bearing the matte stencils of an industrial linen supplier, reversed hard into the alleyway. Before the police could react, a panel on the truck’s side hissed open, revealing a team of Kasprzak’s operatives, clad in dark, unbranded tactical gear. They moved with unsettling speed, deploying a hydraulic breaching tool that tore through the reinforced back door in seconds. A single operative, masked and armed, gestured to them from the newly created aperture. “Go!” Halina pushed Damyan forward, grabbing the hard drive with the incriminating data. They sprinted through the gap just as the first police officers rounded the corner of the building, their shouts swallowed by the roar of the truck’s engine as it peeled away. Inside, the truck was sparse, designed for cargo, not comfort. The air was thick with the scent of oil and ozone. The journey was short, a blur of Radecz’s nightscape. The truck eventually pulled into an underground garage, the entrance to a sleek, obsidian skyscraper that dominated the city’s financial district. Piotr Kasprzak’s personal penthouse. They were led through a series of secure corridors, past more of Kasprzak’s silent, armed personnel, until they reached a vast, minimalist living space, all glass, steel, and muted lighting. The city lights glittered below like scattered jewels. Piotr stood by a floor-to-ceiling window, a silhouette against the Radecz skyline, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He turned as they entered, his expression unreadable. “A rather dramatic entrance, even for you, Halina. Damyan. You look… dishevelled.” Damyan ignored the barb. “Why the sudden change of heart, Kasprzak? A few days ago, you were paying Halina to bury me.” Piotr took a slow sip. “Serafima approached me first, you know. Before you were even charged. Offered me a substantial stake in a ‘reformed’ Vektran, a guaranteed seat on the board, if I helped expedite your downfall.” He paused, letting the implication hang. “I declined. Not out of any particular fondness for you, Damyan. But Serafima’s plan was too crude, too greedy. It smelled of desperation, and desperation makes for unstable partners. I suspected a deeper rot, a structural weakness that would compromise the entire industrial sector if allowed to fester. Your family’s infighting is one thing. A coordinated decapitation and asset strip of a conglomerate of Vektran’s size? That impacts *everyone*.” Halina placed the hard drive on a polished obsidian table. “We have the proof. Embezzlement, shadow companies, systematic capital bleed. She was preparing for this for years.” Piotr walked over, picking up the hard drive, weighing it in his palm. “Excellent work, Hyena. But evidence is only as good as the hands it’s delivered into. And Serafima has already corrupted key players.” He met Damyan’s gaze. “Your personal security chief, for instance. Radim Kovac. He planted the forged weapon in Marek’s private study, after Serafima had already incapacitated your brother. A task for which he was handsomely compensated.” Damyan’s posture stiffened. Kovac had overseen the estate guards since their father ran the board; he carried the master codes to every Borowicz vault. “Kovac disabled the internal cameras for a critical two-hour window,” Piotr continued, his voice flat. “Then he reactivated them just in time to capture you discovering Marek’s body, ensuring the scene looked exactly as Serafima intended.” Damyan took a step toward the glass desk. “You sat on that knowledge. Why didn’t you bring it forward?” “I had suspicions, but no proof. And you, Damyan, were too busy wallowing in self-pity to listen. Besides, I needed Halina to verify the extent of the conspiracy.” Piotr set the hard drive back down. “Now, to business. I will provide a secure conduit for this evidence, ensure its legitimacy cannot be questioned, and leverage my network to expose Serafima’s machinations. I will also provide legal counsel and a public relations strategy that will dismantle her credibility. In return…” Kasprzak’s gaze shifted between them. “I want an unassailable seat on the conglomerate's board. Full voting rights, and fifty-one percent of the recovered Veridian portfolio once the holdings are repatriated. Call it a fee for keeping you off a prison transport, and insurance against future corporate recklessness.” Damyan stood motionless. Kasprzak’s demand dismantled thirty years of hard-won isolation, but the alternative was a life sentence in a high-security penal ward. Halina offered no comfort; she merely waited, weighing whether his pride would break him before the courts did. “Fine,” Damyan said, the syllables flat and harsh. “Step one centimeter beyond the Veridian portfolio, Kasprzak, and I'll bury your tech firms under twelve counts of antitrust espionage. This is a tactical alliance, nothing more.” Piotr smiled, a thin, humourless baring of teeth. “Of course, Damyan. An alliance of hyenas, isn’t that right, Halina? Now, we have a great deal of work to do. Starting with how we explain your miraculous reappearance.”

An Alliance of Hyenas