Fin scanned the room again. The S-rank guard outside. The overwhelming presence of the man in the chair. Rowena, watchful, dangerous in her own right.
This wasn't a negotiation. It was an interrogation chamber disguised as a luxury office.
"Have a seat, Hunter Carver," the man invited, gesturing towards a sleek chair opposite him. His voice was calm, but the power beneath it resonated, making the air feel thick.
Fin walked over and sat. The chair was surprisingly comfortable. Too comfortable.
Rowena glided over to a discreet side cabinet, retrieving a crystal decanter filled with deep red liquid and a single elegant glass. She poured a measure and offered it to Fin.
He hesitated. He never drank. But refusing felt… unwise. He took the glass. The liquid smelled heavy, unfamiliar.
The man watched him, that faint, knowing smile still playing on his lips. Like a scientist observing a particularly interesting specimen.
