Every king thinks he’s untouchable.
Until the queen crosses the board.
The target was Vincent Krane.
CEO of a multinational logistics firm by day.
Drug financier, weapons trafficker, and “clean” money gatekeeper by night.
He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t violent. He didn’t need to be.
Because Krane held the vault keys. Everyone — even enemies — relied on him to keep the game civilized.
So Eve decided to end civilization.
Nathan stood outside the building, dressed like a city inspector.
He held the clipboard. Wore the badge.
Kept his head down and his mouth shut, just like she told him.
Inside, Eve was already three steps into the plan.
Krane’s offices sat on the 39th floor. Glass walls, biometric locks, panic room beneath the floorboards.
Didn’t matter.
She wasn’t going through his defences. She was collapsing them from the inside.
Krane’s executive assistant — a sharp woman named Ilyana — stood by the window when Eve entered.
The moment she turned, her face changed.
Recognition. Fear. Then, something colder. Respect.
“You’re not supposed to exist,” Ilyana said.
Eve tilted her head. “Then let’s pretend I don’t.”
“What do you want?”
“Everything Krane values. But mostly — I want his reputation.”
Marco sat across from the courier boy.
Sixteen. Barely shaved. Big eyes. Small hands wrapped around a duffel bag full of high-grade stimulant.
The kid was one of Krane’s runners. A nothing. A pawn.
And Eve wanted him gone.
Not because of what he knew.
But because of what he represented: Krane’s reach into the next generation.
Marco tried to explain.
The kid didn’t fight. He just nodded.
“Do I gotta kneel or something?”
Marco swallowed hard. “No, kid. Just sit there. Real still.”
The needle Vasha gave him was fast.
Clean.
The boy didn’t feel it.
Marco walked out shaking.
On the 39th floor, Eve sat at Krane’s desk when he walked in.
His eyes flicked to the door behind her. Calculated.
“I’m not here to kill you, Vincent,” she said. “I’m here to kill your legend.”
She handed him a phone.
A video played:
Krane’s accountant. His lawyer. His security chief.
Each confessing, naming him.
Each looking like they’d been peeled open and sewn shut again.
He dropped the phone.
“You’ve made your move,” he said. “You think you’ve won something?”
Eve stood.
“No. I think I’ve opened the game. You made everyone think power was about staying clean. Staying hidden. I’m going to show them what it looks like when someone like you bleeds.”
She left before he could respond.
The video hit darknet channels in less than an hour.
Within six, it was being mirrored on legitimate platforms under the guise of “whistleblower leaks.”
By morning, Krane’s stock had dropped 37%.
Three major partners had pulled funding.
Interpol had opened a sealed investigation that had been dormant for five years.
And Krane?
He checked into a private facility for “stress-related symptoms.”
Everyone knew he’d been taken off the board.
Nobody knew how.
Except one man.
Nathan sat across from Harper in a hotel bar.
She looked tired. Tense.
“You know who did it,” she said.
He sipped his drink. “Do I?”
“You’ve changed.”
“I’ve stopped pretending your system works.”
“You think she can fix it?”
“I think she can break it. That’s a start.”
Harper leaned closer.
“She will burn the whole damn world down.”
Nathan met her eyes.
“Then maybe it deserves to burn.”
Eve sat in her hideout, watching the news.
Beside her on the table:
A chessboard.
Queen. Knight. Bishop.
No king yet.
She moved the bishop forward.
Just one square.
Then looked at the empty space across the board.
“Your move.”
Baawa Unfiltered 