The heavy silence of the Supreme suite was pulverized by a deafening crash as the double doors were kicked inward. The force was so immense that the ornate brass handles bit into the plaster of the walls. Liam Stone marched into the room, his face a mask of contorted, aristocratic fury. This was not the diplomatic "Prince" of the business world; this was a man whose primal sense of ownership had been violated.
Behind him, the air seemed to grow heavy and cold as a masked man stepped out of the shadows. This was Donald Turner, a figure whose name was whispered in the darker corners of Novus City with a mixture of reverence and terror. He didn't speak; he simply occupied space with the lethal stillness of a coiled viper, his presence radiating the disciplined aura of a Martial Arts master.
