"Ashes of Crestfall: The Rise of Aaron San Agustin"

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. A gust of cool, perfumed air greeted them as they stepped into the marble-lined lobby of Velmont's premier luxury mall. Crystal chandeliers gleamed high above, illuminating storefronts of the world's most prestigious brands—Rolex, Dior, Armani, Saint Laurent.

For a moment, the team stood still, absorbing their surroundings. Civilians bustled past, clutching shopping bags worth more than most soldiers' monthly hazard pay. A violin quartet played near the grand fountain, the melody dancing through the vast halls like whispers of a gentler world.

"Damn," Rook muttered, adjusting the collar of his denim jacket. "I feel like I should've showered twice before coming here."

"You should shower twice every day," Hawk quipped, brushing invisible lint from his tactical black jeans.

Aaron chuckled faintly as he walked ahead, his team falling into step behind him. They moved as one unit, disciplined yet casual, heads turning as they passed—an unspoken aura of power radiating from their silent coordination.

They visited store after store. Reaper purchased sleek black dress shirts and tailored slacks, his quiet presence intimidating tailors into perfect silence. Ghost picked up a limited edition smart watch, hacking its internal encryption just for fun. Specter bought only gloves and sunglasses, his minimalist approach never changing.

Then they reached Saville Luxe, an exclusive boutique known for handmade Italian suits. Inside, gold-trimmed mirrors lined mahogany walls. Attendants in grey vests bowed politely.

Maya drifted toward a display of silk blouses. She ran her fingers along the delicate fabric, her emerald eyes bright with longing. After years of wearing scrubs and tactical uniforms, the thought of feeling beautiful again felt… alien.

Suddenly, a male voice rang out behind her, laced with arrogance.

"Careful with those, sweetheart. They're worth more than your entire year's salary."

She turned. A young man stood there, dark hair slicked back, wearing a custom navy suit that screamed old money entitlement. Two bodyguards in tailored black suits flanked him, their eyes cold and dismissive.

Maya blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, flashing a condescending smile. "Don't smudge it with your fingers. This isn't a discount clothing store."

Before Maya could retort, a shadow fell between them. Reaper stepped forward, his broad frame blocking her from view. His grey eyes burned with lethal calm as he spoke, voice low and deadly.

"Apologize," he ordered.

The young man scoffed, glancing at Reaper's faded jeans and black tactical boots. "And who the hell are you?"

"Apologize to her. Now."

Laughter erupted behind him as his two bodyguards stepped forward. "Or what, nosy boy? You gonna cry?"

In one swift motion, Reaper grabbed the nearest guard by the wrist, twisted it with a sharp pop, and sent him crashing to the floor with a muffled scream. The other guard lunged, only to receive a brutal elbow to his throat, collapsing gasping for air.

The young man stumbled back in terror. "Do you know who I am?! My father is Senator Horrid Delgado! I'll ruin you, you worthless thug!"

Reaper took a step forward, but Aaron's hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him. Aaron's eyes flicked to the senator's son with utter indifference.

"Enough."

But the spoiled boy, emboldened by his father's power, pulled out his phone. "You're dead. All of you. I'll have my father's men here in minutes. You think you can touch me?!"

Aaron's gaze darkened, shadows flickering in his obsidian irises. A chilling silence fell around them as shoppers froze, watching the confrontation unfold.

A woman's calm voice broke through the tension. "Perhaps that won't be necessary."

They turned. Standing by the boutique entrance was a tall woman in her late forties, her silver hair tied in a sleek bun, a fitted emerald dress hugging her elegant frame. Her piercing grey eyes observed everything with quiet calculation.

"Maxeen Rowe," Hawk whispered, recognizing her instantly. "The reclusive venture capitalist."

She stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against polished marble. "Senator Delgado's son, is it?" she asked coolly. "You're causing quite the scene. And in a place your father frequents for private political fundraisers, no less. Is this how you carry your family name?"

The young man paled. "Ms. Rowe… I… these thugs attacked me—"

"I saw everything," she interrupted, her voice like ice cutting through silk. "You insulted a woman. You threatened men you know nothing about. And now you wish to escalate this further?"

He swallowed hard, rage and humiliation swirling in his eyes.

Maxeen turned her gaze to Aaron, her expression unreadable. "And you… what is your name?"

Aaron met her eyes steadily. "Just a passing customer."

She studied him for a long, silent moment, as if deciphering secrets hidden beneath his calm exterior. A faint, intrigued smile touched her lips. "Well, 'passing customer,' perhaps you would allow me to handle this situation before blood is spilled on my favorite boutique's carpet."

Before Aaron could reply, the senator's son raised his phone again defiantly. "I don't care who you are, old woman. My father will—"

CRACK.

In a blink, Aaron moved. His hand shot out, gripping the young man's wrist with bone-crushing force. A scream erupted as his arm bent at an unnatural angle, tears streaming down his contorted face.

Aaron's voice was low, cold, and devoid of mercy.

"I told you… enough."

The guards staggered up, faces twisted in pain and terror. Customers watched in stunned silence as Aaron released the senator's son, letting him collapse to the marble floor clutching his broken arm.

Maxeen's eyes narrowed with sharp approval, masking her shock behind polite indifference. "Impressive."

Rook leaned over to Hawk, whispering, "That's our captain. Breaks arms before breakfast."

Hawk smirked faintly, nodding. "Wolves among lions, Killer. Wolves among lions."

Maxeen spoke again, her voice calm yet commanding. "Escort these men out," she ordered the boutique staff. Then she turned to Aaron. "Your actions… are unorthodox. But effective. If you ever seek an audience with me… my card."

She handed him a sleek black business card embossed only with her name and a discreet gold insignia. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left, her entourage falling into step behind her.

Aaron slipped the card into his pocket as his team regrouped around him.

"Let's finish here," he said, his voice cool and unbothered. "Then we eat."

"Yes, Captain," Bravo replied, his eyes gleaming with silent pride.

As they walked deeper into the boutique, the crowd parted silently around them. Because in a world ruled by money and bloodlines, power came in many forms. But true power… true power walked unseen, clad in shadows.

And today, Velmont's elite had witnessed the first glimpse of the wolves who would soon reshape their world.