The car glided past the towering gates of the Dejeva estate, its tires whispering against the smooth cobblestones that led up to a mansion so grand it could’ve been carved from arrogance itself. The moonlight kissed the marble facade, its glow bouncing off the gold-trimmed pillars and massive arched windows like it was bowing in submission to the wealth housed within.

The engine purred to a stop.

Cross Dejeva stepped out of the backseat like a king descending from a throne. Dressed in black on black, his presence alone was sharper than a blade. His icy eyes flicked over the familiar grounds with a practiced disinterest. Security guards standing at...