Dominion: Rise of the Siblings

Two days later.

The chessboard of Lancaster was beginning to shift.

Not that most noticed. Most people never noticed the first move.

But in the underground, respect had a scent. And Alex Virell—still going by the alias Ash—was beginning to reek of it.

He sat quietly in a dim-lit bar buried deep in District Twelve, a rundown part of the city where every face had either a scar, a secret, or a price. The bartender slid him a drink—he didn't touch it.

Instead, Alex watched.

A gang of six men sat at the corner booth, laughing too loud, flashing too much steel at their waists. The Rooks, small-time muscle with big mouths. They controlled a few blocks of protection rackets and were trying to climb higher.

They didn't know they were about to be removed from the board.

"Is it him?" whispered a kid near the entrance.

"Yeah. That's the Phantom. Took down three men in one night, they say. Didn't even bleed."

Alex ignored the whispers.

He was waiting.

Then—

The door opened.

A tall, lean figure in a patched leather jacket entered. A crooked nose, a jagged scar under his eye.

Viktor Dane. The Rooks' leader.

He spotted Alex immediately and laughed. "So this is the guy making waves."

Alex stood slowly, pocketing his gloves.

"Let's talk," he said simply.

"No need to talk," Viktor sneered. "I already heard the stories. You wanna run with us? Beat someone up in the ring? That's cute."

"I'm not here to join you," Alex replied, voice calm. "I'm here to replace you."

The bar fell silent.

The bartender ducked.

Viktor's men stood up, hands on knives, belts, steel.

Alex cracked his neck. "You get one chance, Viktor. Leave your little kingdom, or lose it tonight."

Viktor spat. "Get him."

The first man rushed.

Alex moved like a whisper of death.

One twist—arm dislocated.

A second came—kicked in the kneecap, collapsed screaming.

Viktor backed up in disbelief as the rest of his men fell in less than a minute.

And then it was just him.

Alex walked over, slow and precise, boots echoing on the wooden floor. He leaned in.

"I don't want your territory," he said coldly. "I want your men. Your routes. Your silence."

Viktor swung wildly—panic.

Alex ducked. Slammed his palm into Viktor's chest—flat. A blow without sound. But Viktor crumpled to his knees, gasping.

"I'll give you 24 hours to disappear," Alex whispered. "After that… you vanish in a different way."

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Meanwhile, uptown in a luxury boutique café, Lia Virell was making her own moves.

Dressed in soft pastel and oversized sunglasses, she sat across from Mira Elwood, a gossip columnist turned social influencer. Mira knew everyone. Slept with half of them. And spilled secrets like wine.

"You really don't have social media?" Mira asked, leaning forward. "That's so… mysterious."

"I prefer to be remembered in person," Lia smiled.

Mira giggled. "Girl, you're dangerous. I like you."

Lia sipped her espresso. "Tell me something, Mira. Who really runs the Evermore Circle? I've heard rumors, but you seem like the kind of woman who knows the truth beneath the designer shoes."

Mira looked around. Lowered her voice.

"There's no single leader. But the Thorne Family? They're at the center. Old money. Banking and politics. If you're gunning for high society, you need to get into one of their parties."

Lia smiled. "Sounds exclusive."

"It is. But… if you were dating someone, maybe I could get you in as a 'plus one'."

Lia leaned closer. "Set me up."

Mira's eyes widened. "You serious?"

"As long as he's rich and stupid," Lia said with a wink.

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That night, two territories changed hands.

In District Twelve, Alex stood on the balcony of a warehouse now filled with loyal men—The Rooks, reborn under his rule. Efficient. Disciplined. Afraid of him in the way soldiers fear war gods.

In The Rose District, Lia texted Mira a simple word: "Confirmed." Her date for the Thornes' party would be Vin Alden, the careless youngest son of a luxury car empire.

Above and below, the game pieces moved.

The board wasn't just set anymore.

It was in motion.

And the Virells were already three steps ahead.