The next morning…

I stood before the full-length mirror in my dressing room, adjusting the hand-stitched lapels of my tailored black suit. I buttoned the cuffs, slipped into my polished Oxford shoes, and took a second to evaluate my reflection. The silhouette spoke of absolute authority—the exact persona a Don needed to project when walking into a room full of wolves.

A soft knock echoed against the  wood.

"Enter," I commanded, pulling my chronograph watch onto my wrist and securing the clasp.

Black stepped into the room, impeccably dressed in his own dark suit, bowing his head in formal respect. "The guards are positioned across the primary courtyard, Don Stone....