Inside sat Vega and three others.
The first I recognized from city magazines and ribbon-cutting photos. Arthur Delaney. Developer. He'd bought half the river district and was trying to own the rest. The second was Councilman Mercer, smiling with the shallow confidence of a man who borrowed power from richer people. The third I didn't know.
That usually meant he mattered.
Vega was the calmest man at the table.
Mercer talked too much, hands moving while he explained something nobody respected enough to listen to. Delaney said very little, but everyone watched him when he did. Vega barely moved at all. He let them fill the room until he chose to speak.
Power wasn't volume.
Power was being the voice that changed the room.
A server passed me carrying empty glasses. I stepped aside, then
