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... used to shake the image of Old Man Jace, how the frail, unimposing shopkeeper had morphed into a terrifying deity, a god of ice, his presence as cold and unyielding as winter itself. The moment Jace had subdued the robber, his icy gaze radiated pure intent, like frost settling on the soul.

A shiver ran down Rex's spine at the memory. He could still feel the oppressive weight of Jace's killing intent. "That poor robber… I bet he'll be scarred for life after something like that," Rex mutte ...

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15 years ago, his elder brother was killed right in front of him in the middle of the night – killed by their most trusted driver. Since then, Stefan had a hard time sleeping and often got nightmares. He learned not to trust anyone.

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