The quiet hum of rotor blades cut through the night as a sleek black helicopter descended onto the private helipad at the Sinclair Mansion. Dust rose into the air, swirling across the immaculately kept stone terrace as the aircraft touched down.
The cabin door opened.
Robert Sinclair stepped out first — tall, commanding, dressed in a dark charcoal suit that radiated wealth and danger. His sharp eyes scanned the estate grounds like a man who hadn't returned home in years but still owned every brick.
Behind him, his brother Zeek Sinclair followed, lighting a cigar with the same casual arrogance that had made him both feared and admired in the underworld. His silver hair glinted under the helipad lights.
"Still got that old pit in the garden, huh?" Zeek smirked. "Place hasn't changed a bit."
Robert gave him a sidelong glance. "Neither have you."
They were escorted through the grand doors of the mansion — greeted by staff, security, and the silent watchful presence of Marcus at the inner hall.
But they weren't the only ones expected tonight.
Already seated in the drawing room, beside a roaring fireplace, was Magnus Rose — polished, composed, sipping coffee as if the mansion was his second home.
"Robert," Magnus said, rising.
"Magnus," Robert nodded, crossing the room to shake his hand. "Appreciate you coming on short notice."
"I couldn't ignore it," Magnus replied calmly. "Especially considering your boy just drop-kicked one of my best men into a concrete wall."
Zeek chuckled behind his cigar. "He didn't just kick him. He caught the girl in mid-air too. Showmanship runs in the blood."
Magnus raised an eyebrow. "I'll admit. That part was impressive."
They all sat — the three titans of the city, seated not in a boardroom, but in leather armchairs by firelight, their voices hushed and measured.
Robert poured a glass of brandy but passed it by, instead reaching into his coat.
He slid a blank check across the table toward Magnus.
"For Carter," Robert said simply. "And for your silence."
Magnus stared at the check. Blank. Uncapped.
"I don't need the money," he said, but pocketed it anyway. "But the gesture speaks volumes."
Robert leaned back. "Ryan doesn't know I'm covering this. I want him to believe this is all on him — that he has to manage every consequence. He needs to learn."
Zeek nodded in approval. "He handled it better than I expected. Calm under fire. Made the call to send Marcus. Didn't hide behind his name."
"He'll be better than us," Robert said quietly. "That's the point."
Magnus stirred his coffee, then added, "And what about Lily?"
Zeek raised an eyebrow. "You worried about your daughter? Or about what she might find out if she gets too close to him?"
"I'm worried," Magnus said evenly, "that your boy's shadow will stretch over mine."
Robert met his gaze. "That's already happening."
For a long moment, the fire crackled in the silence.
Then, soft footsteps echoed from the hallway.
A tall woman in a fitted black uniform entered — long legs, flowing midnight hair, and cold, calculating eyes. She moved like a weapon sheathed in silk.
Rose Benedict.
One of Robert's most trusted operatives — and one of the infamous "Three Dragons" of the Sinclair inner circle. Her loyalty was unshakable. Her intelligence terrifying.
She approached Robert's side and leaned in to whisper, but her voice was clear enough for the others to catch.
"Sir… shall we discuss the new threat now?"
Robert stood slowly, the room shifting in tension.
Magnus frowned. "New threat?"
Zeek put out his cigar. "Who's moved?"
Rose Benedict pulled a folder from her coat and placed it on the table. The seal was unbroken.
"Encrypted chatter started this morning across darknet relay hubs. We traced the pattern. Whoever it is — they're watching Ryan, not you. They've been monitoring him since he stepped foot in Crestwood."
Robert's jaw clenched. "Enemy faction?"
"Unknown. But they're organized. Possibly international. Possibly old blood."
Magnus's eyes narrowed. "You think someone's resurfacing?"
Zeek leaned forward, suddenly very serious. "If the old names are coming back… then it's not just about Ryan anymore. It's about the Sinclair legacy."
Robert looked at them both.
"Then we move carefully. Ryan doesn't know yet. And we won't tell him… not until we're sure."
He turned to Rose.
"Set a watch on every known associate. If this is war... we fight it in the dark, not at the gates."
Rose nodded once and vanished back into the shadows.
Magnus stood, adjusting his coat.
"Keep him safe, Robert. For all our sakes."
Robert walked him to the door. "He was born into the fire. I just need to make sure he doesn't burn everything down with him."
The night fell heavier than before — outside, the wind howled across the estate. And somewhere, beyond the city walls…
Eyes watched the young master of Sinclair.
Waiting.