Liora’s POV
The night air outside the Ravenwood compound smelled faintly of rain and asphalt. The city lights blurred through the tinted glass of the black sedan as I rode past the security gates.
Only when the car took a sharp turn onto the highway did I let my posture relax. I unclasped my hands, exhaled slowly, and glanced through the rearview mirror at the fading silhouette of the building, sharp, silver, and hollow, like the man who owned it.
Cyril.
Alpha, Theoretical, and a Savior.
How easily men build myths around themselves.
They never understand that the world isn’t changed by strength or loyalty.
It’s changed by deliberate strategy, it is changed by knowing which strings to pull, and when to let them snap. You might think I'm crazy but that's how I have gotten this far.
