XAVIER’S POV

Power isn’t lost in a single blow.

It leaks quiet, steady through cracks you never noticed until the floor is gone beneath you.

And tonight, the Fixer was here to show me just how wide the cracks in my empire had become.

He leaned against the railing of the rooftop where we normally meet, a silhouette cut sharp against Manhattan’s glow.

His smirk was easy, practiced the kind that came from knowing too much.

“Black.” The Fixer’s smirk was a silhouette. He handed me a ...