Rafael Vexley's Bentley moved like a shadow through the city, quiet but impossible to ignore. Its engine rumbled low, steady, matching the storm brewing beneath Rafael Vexley's calm exterior. Inside, silence ruled. The kind that held weight. The kind that made you feel like something was about to snap.
Rafael sat still, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his custom-built wheelchair. Leather creaked under his sharp suit. His eyes stared through the tinted window, catching flashes of neon signs and strangers moving through the early morning like ghosts. The city was wide awake, but completely unaware of the war going on inside him.
Eliana.
Her name echoed like a warning. A memory he didn't want but couldn't shake. Blood in her curls. Her body broken on the street. Eyes that used to shine with defiance, now dull with pain. He clenched his jaw. He couldn't afford to feel this. Not for her. Not for anyone.
Worry meant weakness. And Rafael Vexley didn't do weak.
