Robert WolfeThe city blurred past the window, a gray smear of filth and noise. I didn’t see it. Didn’t care to.I sat alone in the backseat, surrounded by silence, save for the low hum of the engine and the subtle shuffle of my men breathing in rhythm with the road. My fingers rested on the cane beside me, more symbolism than support. I didn’t need it, not tonight. Tonight, I had clarity.Killian had flinched.Not overtly. But I’d seen it. The twitch of his jaw, the tight clench of his shoulders when I called him what he was, bastard, mistake, disgrace. He still bled. That meant I still had leverage. And leverage was all a man like me needed to win.The file I left him would remind him that his worth lay in obedience, not sentiment.He should’ve known better than to cross me. They all should’ve.I leaned back in my seat, watching the rain smear down the tinted glass like the world was trying to wash itself clean, and failing.Before I left the estate, I made sure the pieces were in mo
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