The moment the word Dragon General echoed through the estate, everything changed.
Conversation died mid-breath. Laughter evaporated. Even the wind seemed to still.
All eyes turned in the same direction.
Standing there was Enzo, clad in a dark military coat, his posture rigid and commanding. Behind him stood rows of armed soldiers, perfectly aligned, faces expressionless, fingers resting near triggers. Their presence alone was overwhelming—cold, disciplined, absolute. This wasn’t a show of power. It was a reminder of it.
For the first time since stepping out of his car, Shark’s confidence fractured.
Still, instinct pushed him forward. He straightened his jacket, plastered a smile on his face, and approached Enzo with practiced familiarity.
“General,” Shark said, clapping his hands lig
