The Aftermath of Power

The boardroom air was thin, stripped of the oxygen of ambition. Marcus Vane had been escorted out, his composure finally fracturing as the board members turned their backs on him. The silence that followed was not the quiet of a vacuum, but the heavy, settling dust of a collapsed empire.

Julian Thorne sat at the head of the mahogany table, his face a mask of controlled agony. The bandage beneath his charcoal suit was dark, a jagge

Preview ends here. Subscribe to continue.