"Three years." Helena's voice had the kind of edge that made wiseguys reach for their pieces. "Three goddamn years I planted you in my boy's operation, and what lands on my desk? A fuckin' text message about some street mutt wearing his face?"Maria's fingers played a nervous beat against her desk, her free hand already reaching for another Red Bull. The aluminum can felt cold against her palm, like the Chicago winter trying to crawl through her office window. "Mrs. King, if you'd just let me-""Mrs. King?" A bark of laughter, harsh as gunfire. "Save the formalities, sugar. This ain't exactly a social call."The leather of Helena's Bentley creaked through the phone, and Maria could picture her there - Chicago's queen mother, probably wearing something that cost more than Maria's yearly salary, looking like she'd just stepped out of some high-society magazine while plotting murder."I didn't install Chicago's finest undercover detective in my son's operation to trade pleasantries." Hel

"Because." He studied the gathered Lords like a coroner studying bodies. "Unlike our cream-suited friend, I got old-fashioned ideas about fair play." The laugh that followed belonged in a meat locker. "Far as fair goes in our world, anyway.""Interesting definition of fair," Tommy Chen drawled, lighting a fresh cigarette. "Yesterday you stick guns in our faces. Today you play Robin Hood? What changed?"Mason's reply came soft as a confession, deadly as nightshade. "Nothing changed. Yesterday was business - showing strength. Today?" His smile showed too many teeth. "Today's about choosing sides. Today we pick teams for the big game."The Lords sized each other up like prizefighters before a match. Around them, decades of power plays and blood feuds shifted like tectonic plates.Petrov's cane tapped thoughtfully. "In chess, pawn that reaches other side becomes queen. Question is - what piece are you playing at, not-Leo?"The table went dead silent. Even Eve's perpetual smirk faltered fo

Mason watched the Lords digest his proposal, their faces a study in barely concealed calculation. The silence stretched like a wire ready to snap. Here he was, playing puppet master to Chicago's most dangerous men, and all he could think about was how far he'd come from that rain-soaked night when his world imploded.Life's got one hell of a sense of humor, he mused. Six months ago, he'd been worrying about making rent. Now he was orchestrating a multi-billion dollar tech revolution with the city's most notorious crime lords.Mason's grin spread, as the thoughts settled in. His rise to becoming this shrewd operator, this calculated kingpin of the streets, hadn't happened overnight. It took the harsh winds of betrayal and the bitter cold of rejection to forge him. Life had taught him one solid truth - a man only discovers his true mettle when he's cornered like a rat in an alley. Getting backed into a corner didn't break him - it just showed him what he was made of. "Here's to you, Oli

Mason's footsteps fell like judge's gavels against marble as he advanced. Each click of his Italian leather shoes carried the weight of promised retribution. The crowd parted before him, society vultures sensing the electricity crackling in his wake."Cowards." The word rolled off his tongue like expensive whiskey – smooth but burning. His laughter, low and dangerous, made nearby phones tremble in manicured hands. "That's what you are. Scared little children playing dress-up in designer wears."His gaze swept over Ethan and Olivia like a coroner examining corpses. These clowns who'd once loomed so large in his world now looked... small. Insignificant. Like ants scurrying across a picnic blanket, convinced their tiny struggles mattered."Listen carefully. Lemme break it down real simple-like." Mason's voice carried that particular quiet that made smart people reach for their phones to call their lawyers. "What I'm doing here ain't none of your business and yours, none of mine. For once

Eve's laughter rang through the Drake's marble halls, sweet as sin and twice as dangerous. "Hot damn, boss! Ya catch Gerard's mug when you dropped that line about his old man's company?" Her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief. "Man went from North Shore money to South Side scared in two seconds flat."Mason kept his hand low on her back, feeling the heat of her through Italian silk. Every curve was a loaded weapon. "Our friend Gerard's gonna have himself one hell of a family dinner tonight.""The kind where somebody ends up sleeping with the fishes?" Eve pressed closer. "Or the kind where daddy's checkbook gets a workout?""Let's just say..." Mason guided them toward a quiet corner, away from prying eyes and hungry cameras. The way Eve moved beside him, like midnight given form – it stirred something in his chest he hadn't felt since... well, since before the rain. "Some conversations leave deeper scars than bullets.""You know something?" Eve's voice dropped low, intimate. "You're g