KAEL
Los Angeles welcomed me with its usual blend of arrogance and excess. The city reeked of desperation—men clawing at power, parading their wealth like peacocks, mistaking noise for influence.
I stepped off the jet, barely sparing a glance at the crew. Niko was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, standing at attention like a soldier awaiting orders. He was nothing if not disciplined.
"The villa?" he asked, though we both knew the answer.
I adjusted my cuffs, my pace unhurried. "You already know I have no interest in that circus."
Niko gave a single nod, falling in step beside me. "The car is ready. Blackwell is expecting you at The Sinclair."
Nathaniel Blackwell. A man who thought himself bold enough to sit at my table.