"Adam," I called out softly, watching him walk closer to me.

He looked like the Adam I used to know back in New York—that sharp, immaculate businessman who was never seen without a tailored suit. Today, he wore a deep blue, perfectly fitted suit that aligned seamlessly with his high-ranking identity in the syndicate.

He stopped a few paces across from me, and for a moment, the words died in my throat.

I should have asked him what he was doing standing in the middle of this compound, but the recollection of my earlier talk with Rosalina rushed back. She had confirmed he was Sullivan’s blood brother, and I knew...