"Drake is just a puppet! The real order came directly from the City Mayor's office!"
The echoing confession hung in the tense air of the penthouse office, sharp and heavy. Marcus slumped against the damp baseboard, his hand trembling as blood leaked onto the carpet.
Rafael did not flinch, keeping the silver revolver leveled straight at the traitor's forehead. His expression remained utterly unbothered, his eyes reflecting the cold amber light of the chandelier.
"You sell your loyalty for empty promises from politicians," Rafael said softly, his baritone voice terrifyingly calm. "The Mayor does not pay debts to failed informants."
"He promised me immunity!" Marcus choked out, gasping as his chest heaved in agony. "He promised me a district precinct of my own once Vesper burned!"
"
