Leon’s POV

The moment security places a hand on my arm, firm and unmistakable, I know it is over, even before the words are spoken, even before I am escorted out of the office I once walked through believing it would become my doorway into power, respect, and finally, control over the life I felt was stolen from me. I do not shout. I do not resist. I smile.

Because anger, real anger, is not loud at first, it is quiet, burning, calculating, and it settles deep in my chest like a living thing, ...