Luther POV

The night air was calm, almost too calm. I sat back on the veranda, the weight of the cigar burning between my fingers, smoke curling lazily into the evening sky. The glass of whiskey beside me glowed faintly under the warm light, the amber liquid swirling every time I lifted it for a sip.

Moments like these were rare—moments when I could breathe, when the chaos didn’t come crashing down on me. But I knew better. In this world, peace was nothing but the silence before a ...