DON'S POV
Smoke curled slowly into the air, rising in lazy spirals before disappearing into the dim light above me.
I watched it for a moment, my fingers resting loosely around the cigar as I leaned back in my chair. The room was quiet, exactly how I preferred it. Silence made it easier to think.
Easier to plan.
Easier to calculate.
Easier to remember who was in control.
The faint scent of aged tobacco filled the room, mixing with the sharp trace of expensive whiskey sitting untouched on the table beside me. The glass had been poured nearly thirty minutes ago, but I had not touched it.
Tonight required clarity.
A soft knock came at the door.
Three precise taps.
Mateo.
"Come in," I said without looking up.
The door opened quietly and he stepped inside, his movements as disciplined as ever. No wasted motion. No unnecessary words. Loyalty like his was rare. Silence like his was even rarer.
He walked toward my desk and placed a thick file on the polished surface.
