Hamilton
Walton should have called me by now. By this time, I should be hearing his voice telling me everything went as planned, that the job I gave him was finished. The magazines and news outlets should already be buzzing with the story of Osborne's death. The entire North should be whispering about the end of Silver Crest's heir.
But nothing.
Not a sound.
Not a single whisper.
That damn boy. That cursed bastard keeps surviving, keeps ruining what I've been crafting for years. How many times will he slip from my grasp? If only Osborne would just disappear, everything would finally align.
Everything had been arranged-every step, every shadow, every coin, every lie. I've been weaving this plan for years, carefully, meticulously. My dream was to make Waterford Pack the most powerful i
