Victor Moran is dying, and everyone knows it. The man who built the Syndicate through forty years of strategic brutality now manages a few coherent hours between morphine doses. He hasn't named a successor—and the organization holds together only through inertia and fear of what comes next.

Three candidates circle the throne.

Daniel Moran has the bloodline. The old guard remembers his grandfather, respects the name. But Danny's instincts are boardroom, not street—and the streets can smell weakness.

Silas Craine has the fear. Half the Syndicate's territory exists because he took it, and the muscle answers to him before anyone else. But his solutions trend toward violence, and violence attracts attention.

You made everyone rich. You solved crises before others saw them coming. You earned something neither rival can claim: Victor's genuine trust. But in a world that respects blood and brutality, competence is an unfamiliar currency.

This isn't a war. It's politics—power flowing through relationships, obligations, leverage, and perception. The violence is always there, underneath, but the real game plays out in conversations that are negotiations, silences that are calculations, and alliances that fracture before the ink dries.

Navigate the corridors of the Moran estate, where Victor holds court from his hospital bed. Build coalitions at the Belden Club, where enemies share drinks while planning betrayal. Read Helena Moran, the dying boss's wife, who controls access and wields influence no one acknowledges. Court underbosses who hedge their bets and wait to see which way the wind blows.

External threats multiply. Federal investigators smell weakness. A rival organization probes the borders. Legitimate partners grow nervous about transition.

The old man is dying. The throne sits empty. In the weeks before everything falls apart, you'll discover whether competence can become command—or whether dynasty and violence are the only languages power understands.