Sylvester POV

Power has a sound.

Most people think it’s loud—gunshots, shouting, chaos. They’re wrong. Real power hums quietly beneath the skin, steady and controlled, like a blade sliding free from its sheath. That was the sound filling my ears as night crept over the city and my plans slid into motion.

I didn’t sleep.

Sleep was for men without enemies.

I sat in the dark of my penthouse, city lights spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, my reflection fractured in ...