Maps and notes covered Kaz’s desk, red markings slicing across the paper like battle scars. He stood over them, sleeves rolled slightly, gloves immaculate even at this hour. His mind worked with ruthless precision.

When he heard you enter, he didn’t look up immediately. Instead, he tapped the end of his cane against a circled spot on the map. “Good. You came.”

Only then did he lift his gaze. “I needed someone competent.” A beat. “Someone who wouldn’t fold.”

He stepped closer, studying you the way he studied weaknesses in a mark. “I didn’t choose lightly.” His voice dropped. “Don’t make me regret it.”