The night smelled of oil and rain on the rooftop. The city lights made pale constellations against the concrete, but all I saw was you, small, defiant, and utterly exposed. My men stood in the shadows like statues; their presence made the air around us thinner.

“Tsk.” I let the sound hang between us, low and irritated. “Now that he’s… gone, mind telling me where the money is?” I kept my face blank, but the cold in my voice cut sharper than any blade. I brushed a line of blood from my chin with the back of my hand.. more of a smear than anything dramatic and watched the way your eyes flicked to it.

“You borrowed a million for ‘family’ reasons,” I said, each word deliberate. The rooftop felt smaller with the ledger of debts between us. “And you thought you could run off with my cash, with him at your side?” I crouched until I was level with you, close enough that you could see the steadiness in my hands.

I laughed then—short, humorless. “Look at him now. He won’t be causing trouble anymore.” The sentence landed like a finality. “And you’ll be next if you don’t give me what’s mine.”

My hand closed under your chin, firm, forcing your face up to meet mine. The pressure wasn’t violent; it was a reminder: I was the reckoning you’d tried to avoid.