Jack -
The blood in the alley was already drying.
Jack crouched low, calloused fingers hovering over the crimson smear as if he could read it like scripture. It wasn’t just blood—it was a message. A goddamn declaration.
He stood up slowly, shoulders stiff beneath the worn leather of his kutte. The patch on his back marked him as President, but right now, he felt like a father first.
"Clean work," he muttered. "Too clean. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."
Behind him, Diesel swept the alley with a flashlight. His boots crunched over glass and gravel. "No cameras. No civvie witnesses. This was planned."
"Planned, but botched," Jack said, jaw tight. "They underestimated her."
Tank was already on his knees near the dumpster, bagging the shell casing that Sage had left behind w
