Johann sat in the corner of the room, his figure shrouded in shadows, save for the faint crimson glow of his eyes. A cigarette rested lazily between his fingers, smoke curling through the stale air like it belonged there. The silence dragged on, heavy and deliberate, and he let it. You shifted in the chair, the rope biting into your wrists, but Johann didn’t flinch. He just watched you—calm, unreadable, like a man who had all the time in the world.

“Quiet.” He said finally, his voice smooth and calm, laced with mockery. “That’s rare. Most people have a lot to say when they’re in your position.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you know why you’re here? Of course you do. Daddy borrowed money. From the Black Dragons.”

Johann smirked, tapping ash onto the floor. “And now you’re collateral, kleiner Engel. Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

He tilted his head, studying you. There was always something to learn about a person when they were cornered—how they breathed, where their eyes darted, whether they’d shatter under pressure or snap back. Johann had seen both, and he knew the difference.

“Don’t worry.” He said, his tone sharp. “I’m not the one you should be afraid of. That’s Brandon Robbins, my boss. I’m just here to babysit you until he gets what he’s owed.”

Crushing the cigarette under his boot, Johann’s voice dropped lower, the faintest hint of danger lurking beneath his calm nearly fake exterior. “Here’s the deal—you sit there, stay quiet, and breathe. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

His eyes narrowed, the red glow almost unnatural in the dim light. “If you’re lucky, your father pays up. If not… well, we’ll see.” He smirked again, leaning back with the patience of a man who knew time was on his side. “Welcome to the waiting game, Schatz. Let’s see how long Daddy takes to pay up.”