Maxwell’s POV

Patience. Everyone said it was my strength. Colleagues called it discipline, enemies called it arrogance, and Victoria—back when she still pretended to love me—used to call it coldness.

But patience was never cold. It was heat buried under iron. Rage chained so tightly that people mistook it for calm.

And right now, that chain was breaking.

Every time I looked at Lila, I saw another piece of her fading. The spark in her eyes shrinking. The way she hesitated before ...