Ares

The man from my father’s past didn’t waste words. He stood in the center of Sterling Tower, calm, precise, as if he owned the place.

“I’m here for what’s rightfully mine,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Your father left debts… unsettled matters. And now it’s your turn.”

I studied him quietly, my body tight, every muscle ready. Seven months of peace had trained me, honed me. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t give fear room.

“You picked the wrong family,” I ...