The Shadow Hierarchy

The air inside the Thorne boardroom had curdled into the suffocating silence of a morgue. Elias Thorne stood at the head of the mahogany table, his movements deliberate, his hands steady. Before him, the digital ledger of the redevelopment project flickered on the wall-mounted screens—a scrolling testament to synthetic peptides and human cost. Marcus Thorne sat in his leather chair, a man eroded. The vanity of his tailored suit could no longer mask the collapse of his posture. Around them, the board members stared at their tablets, their faces pale, oscillating between visceral nausea and the frantic,

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