The Caged Sovereign

The Lambo's engine growled low under his grip, vibrating through the steering wheel as Parker cruised through Beverly Hills. The sun was barely over the horizon, morning fog still lingering in patches over the pristine streets, but this side of town? Yeah, it didn't care. Rich people with too much money and too little to do lived here—where driving a million-dollar supercar barely earned a second glance.

For a moment, the hum of the engine wasn't enough to drown out his thoughts. His hands tightened on the wheel as the car slowed, almost on instinct, outside that building.

The fucking club.

The one he used to work at. A place that had felt more like a cage than a job. His stomach twisted, the memories creeping in like shadows at the edges of his mind.

The club.