Ortega Moreau lowered his head in shame, his mouth sealed shut. The weight of Silas Moreau’s silence was heavier than any insult.Silas stood still for a beat, surveying the chaos. Five hundred gangsters surrounded him like a wall of flesh and steel. The air stank of sweat, blood, and cigarette smoke. Men clutching knives, chains, bats, and iron bars stood shoulder to shoulder, roaring like they were already halfway into a war.In the eye of the storm stood Jaden Rift, Selena Verrick, and the Rift Corporation crew. A few of their men were on the ground, beaten to a pulp—groaning, bloodied, barely conscious.Then came the limping.Behemoth dragged his hulking frame toward Silas, his face twisted in pain. His right leg was swollen and crooked, dragging behind him like dead weight. He dropped to one knee beside his leader, gripping his thigh and wincing through clenched teeth.“Big Brother Silas…” he grunted, his breath ragged. “You’re finally here. That guy—him!” He pointed a trembling

Not only were Silas Moreau and his gang frozen stiff, even Selena Verrick and the rest of the Rift Corporation staff were stuck in stunned silence.Their mouths hung open, eyes wide as they processed the sheer weight of what they’d just witnessed. The same Jaden Rift who'd shown up looking like just another corporate enforcer had just summoned an entire elite unit like it was child’s play.Jackie Basco and his crew, still covered in dust and grease from the warehouse floors, stared at Jaden like they were looking at a ghost from a war story. One of the men muttered, “What the hell kind of past does this guy have?”No one answered. Selena Verrick’s fingers clenched unconsciously at her sides. The memory of the rescue mission that had brought her daughter back flashed in her mind. Jaden had been calm under pressure, cold when he had to be, deadly when it counted.Now this?Her mind raced. The old chief. It had to be him. Jaden must still have the old man’s loyalty, even after all these

He answered the call and hit speaker. A voice blasted through the silence, cold and razor-sharp, slicing the tension like a guillotine."In '03, Silas Moreau gambled at a private table in Wind City. He lost big. Thought the investor Ben Canan rigged the deck, so he hired a hitman. Canan was found dead in his hotel room a week later. Gunshot to the head. Execution style."A ripple of shock ran through the onlookers.The voice didn’t pause."In the same year, Silas Moreau fled to Ironvale City. Built a gang from the local scum, paid them in drugs and blood money. He personally stabbed nine men to death during a turf war. Nine bodies. One night."Silas's eyes bulged, mouth opening in wordless horror.His face turned the color of ash. Sweat rolled down his temples like rainwater sliding off glass."In '05, a merchant bribed him to eliminate the family of Cornelius Waft—a foreign businessman looking to expand into Ironvale. Silas set their home on fire. The wife, two kids, and the housekee

Elias Verrick nodded slowly, his usual smugness still intact as he reached for his phone. “Let’s see what Big Brother Silas has to say about that little stunt,” he muttered.He tapped on the screen and raised the phone to his ear—then froze.His brow furrowed. “What the hell...?”Everyone at the table turned toward him. Xander narrowed his eyes. “What's wrong?”Elias pulled the phone away, staring at the screen like it had just betrayed him. “It’s off. Straight to voicemail.”“Dead battery?” Talon suggested, half-hearted.Elias shook his head. “He always keeps a spare charger on him. Always. This isn’t normal.”Then Talon shot up and pointed at the massive LCD screen on the wall. “Look! On the news—it’s Silas!”Every head in the room whipped toward the TV.And there he was. The Vulture himself. Silas Moreau.Slumped between two masked officers, arms zip-tied behind his back, blood crusted at his temple. Behind him, dozens of his men were being marched into armored vehicles like cattl

For the next few days, the demolition crews hired by Rift Corporation tore through Greyfield Village like a swarm of machines with no brakes.Old bricks cracked. Concrete groaned. Dust blanketed the air like fog. Each collapsing structure wasn't just an eyesore coming down—it was pure cash burning. Every swing of the excavator, every dump truck filled with rubble, was another line slashing through the company’s bleeding balance sheet.The deeper they dug, the faster the funds drained.From the moment the project began, Rift Corporation's coffers had been on life support. Selena had accepted five million from Jaden when she first founded the company. That money barely covered the licensing, initial procurement, and early designs. Once demolition began, Jaden added another twenty million to the pot.But it still wasn’t enough. Not even close.Greyfield wasn’t just a passion project—it was a financial sinkhole.Selena ran the numbers again and again, combing through expenses late into