He walked into the club, the music dipping for a split second as the DJ saw him. A nod. A gesture. The crowd parted like the Red Sea. He wasn't there for the drinks or the lights; he was there for the deal.
"Ia zi, Boss," a voice rasped from the shadows of the VIP booth. It was Stefan, the old guard. "You’re late." Danya - Ia zi Boss
He sat down, the rhythm of the city outside matching the pulse in his veins. Tonight, the game changed. Tomorrow, the name Danya wouldn't just be whispered in the clubs—it would be written on the skyline. He leaned in, his voice low but cutting through the roar of the speakers. He walked into the club, the music dipping
Danya smirked, adjusting his cufflink. "A boss is never late, Stefan. Everyone else is just early." The crowd parted like the Red Sea