The night crawled instead of moved.
The right handman stalked up the long, private road leading to Daniel Warren’s mansion with a loaded gun pressed against the small of his back, his fingers shaking from rage. He looked wrecked.
Hair unkempt, curls matted with dried blood that wasn’t all his. His black suit once tailored was torn at the shoulder, stained dark along the hem. His eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, ruined. He had cried until his body had nothing left to give, until grief turned into something sharper. Deadlier.
Vengeance.
Every step echoed with memories: loyalty, obedience, years wasted kneeling to a man who never f*****g knelt to anyone.
The mansion gates were already open like Daniel is expecting.
That alone made his stomach drop.
No guards barking orders.
No maids bu
