Chapter 4 — Walls of Control

Lonzo

The estate was too quiet. Not the efficient, reassuring kind of quiet I preferred, but the uneasy silence that precedes a storm. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in my study, an untouched glass of whiskey in my hand. The city sprawled in the distance, its lights flickering like false promises. Somewhere out there, Landon Moretti was moving his pieces, plotting his games, and I hated that I couldn’t yet predict his next move.