Littlefinger's mind raced, contemplating his next move. The sense of control he had once held was slipping away, and the realization gnawed at him. He had underestimated Damien
As he threw a chair across the room in a fit of rage, Littlefinger's mind plotted revenge. The fire in his eyes burned with a determination to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his. The cartel, the power, the control – all slipping away like sand through his fingers.
His phone buzzed on the table, interrupting the tempest in his mind. Littlefinger snatched it up, glancing at the message. It was a report from his remaining associates, detailing the failures and setbacks they faced in the wake of Damien's countermove.
A guttural growl escaped Littlefinger's throat. "I won't let them win. I won't let Damien and his so-called family ruin everything I've built."
