My heart pounded as I navigated the winding roads leading off Elarian Heights. The towering gray walls and pristine, manicured gardens of Lucas’s estate faded into the distance, but it was the sight of Valerie mingling with the Heights’s manager that ignited the rage burning inside me. I had left her a clear, menacing signal, a warning that had only deepened my simmering anger. I’d warned her, explicitly and without ambiguity, that if she dared to talk about my operations or our dealings, her friend, that insufferable little brat, would pay dearly.
At 29 years old, I was a figure who commanded both fear and respect in Elarian Heights. I stood tall at 1.87 meters, my body marked with various tattoos that told the story of my tumultuous life. Born and raised in Elarian Heights, my life had
