The cemetery sat on the eastern edge of Ashford City like a forgotten scar—cracked headstones tilting at odd angles, weeds strangling the pathways between graves, names and dates swallowed by moss and neglect. This was where the city buried those it wanted to forget. The poor, the disgraced and the unwanted.Kai Cross stood before a grave in the pauper's section, hands loose at his sides, shoulders squared against the autumn wind. His dark coat hung open despite the cold. He didn't feel it, he felt nothing but the slow burn in his chest that had been building for ten years.The headstone was small. Cheap gray granite, the kind they mass-produced and dropped into the ground without ceremony. His mother's name—Eleanor Cross—was barely visible beneath the vandalism. Someone had spray-painted the word "THIEF" across the stone in dripping red letters, crude and hateful.Kai stared at the word. His jaw tightened. His fingers curled slowly into fists.Ten years since he'd stood on this groun

Sterling Tower rose from the heart of Ashford City like a monument to excess—fifty stories of steel and glass, crowned with the Sterling name in letters large enough to be seen from the highway. The lobby was all marble and gold, crystal chandeliers hanging like frozen waterfalls, the kind of place where even the air smelled expensive.Kai stood on the sidewalk across the street, staring up at it.This building hadn't existed ten years ago.Ten years ago, this had been home.His hands curled into fists inside his coat pockets.---Twelve years ago.Summer. The air thick with the scent of roses from his mother's garden. The house had been modest by Sterling standards: only eight rooms, a small yard, but it had been theirs. His mother had planted the garden herself, spent hours on her knees in the dirt, humming softly while Julie played nearby.It was Julie's eighth birthday. Balloons tied to the porch railing, a cake shaped like a castle on the kitchen table. Julie had been wearing a

The guards charged.Six of them, batons raised, faces set in grim determination. The crowd screamed and scattered, champagne glasses shattering on marble floors as guests fled toward the exits.Kai remained seated, hand moving slowly toward the inside of his jacket.His fingers closed around a small device—smooth metal, no larger than a car key fob. He pressed the button.The air itself seemed to crack.A pulse of concussive force exploded outward from Kai's position—invisible, devastating and controlled. The shockwave hit the charging guards like a physical wall. Their bodies lifted off the ground, thrown backward with violent force.One slammed into a decorative pillar. The marble cracked. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.Another crashed through a table, sending plates and silverware flying in all directions. He groaned, tried to rise, and collapsed again.A third hit the wall so hard the framed artwork shook. He slid down, gasping for air.The remaining guards were scattered

Thirty minutes earlier.Lila Blackwell sat at a corner table in the VIP lounge, nursing a glass of sparkling water and trying not to let her discomfort show.The room was full of Ashford City's elite—politicians, CEOs, old money socialites draped in diamonds and designer dresses. They laughed too loud, smiled too wide, clinked champagne glasses and exchanged the kind of hollow pleasantries that made Lila's skin crawl.She didn't belong here.Or rather, she did—but she hated that she did.At twenty-six, Lila had built a reputation as one of the city's most dogged investigative journalists. She'd exposed corruption in the city council, brought down a human trafficking ring, and sent two dirty cops to prison. Her articles were fearless and uncompromising.But tonight, she wasn't here as a journalist.Tonight, she was here because her father had asked her to be.Across the room, Marcus Blackwell held court with a group of men in expensive suits—Senator Graham, two pharmaceutical lobbyists

Kai turned away from Lila, his attention shifting back to Derek Sterling.Derek was still standing there, trying to pull himself together, straightening his jacket, wiping sweat from his forehead, forcing his face into something that resembled authority, but his hands were shaking. His eyes kept darting toward the exit, toward Viktor Kane slumped against the pillar, toward the unconscious guards scattered across the floor.He was terrified.And trying desperately not to show it.Kai took a single step toward him.Derek flinched."You're Derek Sterling," Kai said. His voice dropped, cold and dangerous. Not a question but a statement.Derek swallowed hard, lifted his chin. "That's right." His voice cracked slightly. He cleared his throat, tried again. "That's right. And you're about to be arrested for assault and—and destruction of property, and—""Ten years ago," Kai cut him off, "your family demolished my childhood home to build this monument."Derek blinked. "What? I don't—""There w