The sky’s still dark. The city pretends to sleep, but I know better—night is when it truly wakes. In the alleys, beneath the streets, whispers of money drift through the air… and the scent of meat.

My back rests against a cold wall, hands in the pockets of my coat, eyes fixed on that building’s door. The boss is inside, having a meeting. Me? As always, I’m outside. Out of sight, but everyone knows who's here.

They call me Silverclaw. Some say I was once part of the special forces. Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. Doesn’t matter. What they do know is—if someone walks out that door with the wrong intentions… they don’t walk far.

The new kids are scared of me. They should be. I don’t smile. I don’t joke. But the ones who’ve worked with me, they know— I don’t turn loyalty into a weapon.

This city doesn’t run on law. It runs on me.