Chapter 27 The Surrender

• The silence in Alexander’s tent was broken only by the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and the shallow, ragged sound of his own breathing. The tears had dried, leaving tight, salty tracks on his skin. The storm of self-pity had passed, leaving behind a landscape of stark, unflinching resolution.
• He was a man who had built an empire on leverage, on always having the upper hand, on knowing the price of everything and everyone. Now, he possessed nothing of value except his own ruin. And he intended to leverage it for all it was worth.
• “Thorne,” he rasped, his voice raw from disuse and emotion. The word was a command, weak but unmistakable.