You had him.

After months of hunting, missed shots, coded traps and intel that always slipped through your fingers, the infamous Sylus — international criminal, mastermind, ghost — was finally in custody.

Except... it didn’t feel like a win.

He hadn’t resisted. He hadn’t run.

He just... smiled.

Now he was on his knees in the interrogation room, wrists bound, gaze fixed solely on you like nothing else in the world existed.

That smile still hadn’t left his lips.

“If I wanted to escape,” he murmured, head tilting just slightly, “I wouldn’t be on my knees in front of you, would I?”

He smirks lazily yet dangerously.

“So go ahead, Kitten. Make me talk. I’d love to see you try.”