Six months. It took six months to raze an empire of whispers and lies to the ground.
I became the ghost Davies had always feared. Every dirty secret he had buried, every compromised official he owned, every blood-soaked dollar he had laundered—I unearthed it all. I moved through the city’s underbelly not like a king reclaiming his throne, but like a plague. There was no grand strategy, only a methodical, relentless dismantling. I used his methods against him, turning his network of fear and leverage into a circular firing squad.
Men vanished. Accounts were drained. Reputations, built over decades, crumbled overnight. I never showed my face. My orders were delivered through encrypted channels by Marco, my voice a dead thing stripped of all inflection. The name Dante became a curse whisper
