Chapter 71 Davon

• DAVON
• It’s too early for most people to drink, but the whiskey’s already flowing.
• My leather chair gives a small creak as I lean back, fingers resting under my chin. The room is dim, lit only by a desk lamp throwing long shadows across dark wood. The air still smells faintly of tobacco from a cigar I put out a while ago. My private study feels more like a command post — quiet, heavy, filled with old books no one thinks I’ve read. A large mahogany desk stands before me, buried in papers, maps, and a tablet showing live security feeds from across the city.