The peace was never meant to last; in Blackwood, it was merely the silence that preceded a landslide. The penthouse was bathed in the cool, blue glow of the midnight skyline, the city below a glittering circuit board of their new domain. Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, his massive form a shadow cast across the district. He held a glass of rye, the amber liquid catching the light, his sapphire eyes tracing the dark, shifting currents of the harbor. Behind him, Elena was at the terminal, her fingers dancing over the keys as she finalized the transit manifests for the newly acquired European shipping fleet.
The atmosphere was dangerously still—a sharp contrast to the adrenaline-soaked halls of the Swiss fortress. But for Elena, the quiet was deceptive. She felt the hum of the Syn
