Xavier’s POV

A heavy silence always precedes the final shot. I wasn’t sure if the silence belonged to the financial world holding its breath or the small, ruined piece of my soul that was about to execute its own father.

The refinery floor reeked of oil and old smoke, a fitting atmosphere for the burning of the Black legacy.

Zayne’s boots, once the careless stride of an oblivious heir, now echoed off the steel with the measured purpose of a man choosing his own destiny.

We descended into ...