Ross clenched his fists, the cool breeze doing little to dispel the growing frustration building inside him. His thoughts lingered on the Majesty Club: his so-called "elite group." They were supposed to be the best, a representation of power and influence, but without his guidance, they were making reckless decisions. Decisions like excluding someone as valuable as Jett Grift, a strategic mistake that still gnawed at him.
"Idiots," he muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. "They think they know everything, but without me, they're nothing."
He turned his gaze back toward the lavish room behind him, the luxury and privilege it represented only serving to deepen his sense of isolation. 'Why do I even bother?' The question hung in his mind, heavy and bitter. He was the leader in title, but in reality, he felt more like a figurehead, constantly dealing with the consequences of other people's poor choices.
