Chapter 1: The Swan Legacy

The rain-slicked streets of Manhattan glistened under the dim light of a flickering streetlamp. Edward Anthony, known to the Swans as Masen, stood at the edge of a shadowed alley, his sharp green eyes locked on the scene unfolding across the street. Two men exchanged a heavy duffel bag in front of a nondescript warehouse, their hushed voices lost to the sound of passing cars. Edward's fingers brushed the edge of the hidden recording device in his pocket, his muscles tense.

This was just another drop. Another piece of the puzzle.

Seven months into their undercover mission, Edward and his brother, Emmett—operating as Masen and Will—had carved their way into the periphery of the Swan empire. The name carried weight in New York's criminal underworld, whispered in bars, boardrooms, and back alleys alike. Led by Charlie Swan, the family was synonymous with control—over the docks, the unions, and the flow of narcotics up and down the East Coast.

Edward's jaw tightened as he watched the exchange. The federal government had poured millions into dismantling the Swan empire. The public, too, demanded justice for the thousands of lives claimed by their ruthless grip on the city. But the stakes went far beyond money or numbers. The Swans thrived on fear, and Edward had seen it firsthand in the eyes of shopkeepers, dockworkers, and even seasoned officers too scared to speak their names.

Failure wasn't an option—not after what happened to Agent Ramirez.

The thought sent a chill through Edward's veins. Ramirez had been a mole, a veteran operative sent in to infiltrate another criminal empire a few years prior. He'd lasted six months before they found him out. His body had been left on the steps of an NYPD precinct—broken, burned, and mutilated, with a single message scrawled on a piece of cardboard: We don't forgive traitors. Ramirez had a wife, two kids, and a stellar record. The FBI buried him with honours, but Edward had never forgotten the terror in his widow's eyes at the funeral.

He wasn't about to let Emmett share that fate. Or himself.

"Eyes on the prize, Ed," Emmett's voice crackled through the earpiece, pulling him back to the present. "The last thing we need is you getting caught staring into the rain like some noir detective."

Edward smirked, forcing his focus back on the task. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Always, little bro. You know I've got your back. But seriously, keep your head in the game. We're not invincible, and the last thing we need is someone sniffing out who we really are."

Edward nodded, even though Emmett couldn't see him. His brother's hazel eyes might've lacked the intensity of his own, but they reflected an unwavering loyalty that made him the perfect partner.

Still, Edward couldn't shake her from his mind.

Isabella Swan. The youngest and only surviving child of Charlie Swan. Edward had come across her image long before the mission began, during the endless hours of research and preparation. She was a vision of contrasts—soft and sharp all at once.

Her light brown eyes—almost golden under certain lighting—seemed to hold secrets and stories untold. They drew you in, as if daring you to look deeper. Her chestnut hair flowed long and loose, cascading over her shoulders. Her full lips curved in a way that hinted at mischief or mystery. She wasn't classically beautiful, but there was something magnetic about her. A raw, captivating kind of beauty that made it hard to look away.

She had a tall, slender frame with curves that couldn't be ignored, especially the way she carried herself. Confident. Effortless. It was the kind of confidence that came naturally, as if the world bent to her will without her having to lift a finger.

Edward had poured over articles and interviews about her, studying every detail. She was a celebrated artist whose work had garnered critical acclaim, with pieces hanging in galleries and private collections around the world. Even he, a self-proclaimed philistine when it came to fine art, couldn't deny the impact of her work.

Edward had told himself his interest was purely professional, a means to understand a potential target. But he couldn't deny the truth: Bella Swan was exactly his type.

And therein lay the danger.

"Masen," Emmett's voice jolted him back to reality. "What's the call? You wanna stick around or head back?"

Edward's eyes narrowed as he watched the two men finish their transaction and retreat into the shadows. He glanced at the time. "Let's give it five more minutes. Something about this feels off."

"Roger that," Emmett replied.

As Edward waited, his mind wandered back to Isabella. He hadn't met her yet, but he would. It was inevitable. She was the crown jewel of the Swan family, the one person Charlie seemed to keep at arm's length from his operations. Yet, in this world, no one was truly innocent. If he could find a way to get close to her, she might be the key to unravelling everything.

But that would mean using her. Manipulating her.

Edward shook his head, brushing away the thought. He couldn't afford to think like that. Not yet. For now, he had to play his part.

The game had only just begun.

It has been a while since I updated, over a year. I apologized greatly but I needed to take a break for my own health. But now, I am back and will finish this story but had to rewrite, had a new wave of inspiration and had to rewrite because it is going to be better than I originally thought and hope you are still with me for the ride.

What do you think so far?