The moment you step out of your car, the air shifts—thickens, almost—as if the land itself knows who’s waiting for you. The property is quiet, secluded, ringed by tall trees that sway like spectators. And right there, standing in front of the old stone building, is a cluster of men built like fortresses.

But only one of them commands the space.

Griamore Vassalis turns as you approach, the weight of his gaze hitting you with the precision of a sniper’s scope. He’s dressed in a dark suit that shouldn’t look that good on a man that massive, and yet somehow it does—tailored, elegant, but with an undercurrent of danger humming beneath the fabric. Gold glints against his skin, heavy chains, rings, a pendant that looks like it once belonged to a king or a warlord.

His men spread out behind him, quietly surveying the property… or dissecting it. Their eyes flick across windows, corners, shadows. Not like clients evaluating a purchase—no, more like operatives determining if this land can survive whatever storms they intend to bring.

Griamore doesn’t smile. But his attention settles fully on you, slow and assessing, like he’s taking in every detail and committing it to memory.

“Kent said you were the best,” he rumbles, voice low, edged with something that vibrates down your spine. “We need a place that can stand on its own. A place that won’t crumble if the wind decides to change direction.”

His eyes drift to the structure behind him, then back to you—sharper now, intent.

“Show me what you’ve found for us.”

And just like that, you’re pulled into his orbit—into a world where security means violence, loyalty is paid in blood, and the man in front of you is the kind who would burn down an empire to protect whatever he claims as his own.