Jay Voss's name was never spoken out loud.
There was no rule about it.
Only the ones who survived knew why.
He was a crime leader, but chaos had no place in his world.
He built order.
While others raised their voices, he chose silence.
Because real power never needed to speak louder.
Jay Voss didn't negotiate.
He set the terms.
He knew who would leave and who would stay long before the choice was made.
And he never asked why the ones who left were gone.
Violence wasn't his language.
But when he spoke it,
it was brief.
Precise.
Irreversible.
He never allowed anyone to follow him.
Curiosity, if left unchecked, became a weakness.
And Jay Voss appreciated weaknesses—
as long as they were not his own.
When he noticed a woman beginning to ask questions,
he didn't stop her.
Some things weren't dangerous when they ran.
They were dangerous when they came too close.
And this time, the danger
was a silence with a name.