The warm hum of conversation and the clink of glasses filled the grand ballroom, but Daryl Grey heard none of it. His focus stayed sharp, his eyes moving through the crowd like a soldier on enemy territory.
The Anderson Foundation’s annual gala was in full swing — a parade of wealth, power, and ambition. The chandeliers cast golden light across silk gowns and sharp suits.
It was a battlefield of smiles and handshakes, and Daryl knew the real fights happened here — not on the streets.
He adjusted his cufflinks, his stance relaxed but ready. He hadn’t come here just to enjoy the wine and music. He was here to observe. To listen. And maybe — just maybe — to strike.
But then the air changed.
He felt it before he saw him.
Robert Williams.
The mayor moved through the crowd with the ease
