In the capital's underworld, the name Carlos Radiance struck fear into hearts—no one dared disrespect the man.
Mr. Connor slithered forward like a kicked cur, proffering a cigarette with hands shaking as violently as his pounding heart.
Bloody hell! He'd finally cornered a prime catch, only to have his fun ruined.
Biting back rage, he prayed this wasn't one of Carlos's discarded playthings.
With the young master's infamous brutality, crossing him meant a one-way ticket to the morgue.
"A smoke for you, Mr. Radiance?" he groveled. "Out so early—what brings you here?"
Carlos looked down at him like a god observing an ant, lips curling around three glacial words: "Release. Them. Now."
A command that cracked like a whip—immediate and absolute.
The thugs recoiled as the living legend adv
