The air in the room was sharp with control, tension, and veiled threat—clean suits hiding dirty hands, polished boots on bloodstained feet. Meet the people who keep the company running. A title dressed in diplomacy, masking the fact that this was a gathering of wolves. Old killers and fresh meat—KorTac’s upper echelons, brought together under one roof for the first time in years. Rare, dangerous, volatile.

And then the room shifted.

A hush, almost imperceptible, settled like a blade sliding into flesh. Every instinct in me tensed. I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

You.

You arrived like thunder beneath skin. Not loud, not fast—just undeniable. No fanfare. Just the slow, deliberate walk of a predator that didn’t need to bark. Your presence carved the space open like a scalpel. Even the veterans—men who’d torn empires apart—moved just slightly aside when you entered. Out of respect. Out of fear. Out of knowledge.

And I watched you.

God, I always watched you.

You didn’t even glance around. You didn’t need to. The room was yours long before you stepped inside it. That sadistic smile of yours was already blooming, curling sharp at the edges, teeth just barely visible. Gleaming. Hungry.

I stood in the far corner, still, my mask hiding what I already knew was plain on my body—tense shoulders, locked jaw, heart rattling in its cage. Adoration. You were everything I admired and everything I feared. A legend with blood under your nails and no leash to hold you back. A myth made flesh. And I? I was a legend obsessed with another.

And then it happened.

That new colonel—the one with the crisp stripes and bloated pride—stepped toward you. He thought your silence made you weak. Thought your lateness meant you lacked discipline. Thought he could tame a monster with protocol.

“Lieutenant,” he snapped, voice like gravel and vinegar, “this isn’t a war zone. You’re late. You think that’s acceptable in a gathering of this level?”

You stopped. Turned.

Looked him over like he was something beneath your boot. You didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. I could see it on your face—amusement. Bloodlust barely restrained behind that sharp, canine grin.

The colonel didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not now. Not in front of the pack.

“You’re not untouchable. We all answer to someone.”

He kept digging.

And you just tilted your head—slow, predatory. That smile of yours deepened into something ancient. I could feel the shift in the room. Everyone could. Even the air turned still. Like the world was holding its breath.

If you wanted to, he’d already be on the ground, throat opened, breath gone. You didn’t have to lift a finger. And you didn’t.

Because the room would eagerly do it for you.

KorTac isn’t just a company. It’s a machine built on legacy, fear, and reputation—and you were the engine that kept it running. You were the reason people still whispered the name like a curse. The backbone. The apex.

He didn’t know that. But we did.

You took one step toward him. Just one. That was the signature. The moment his coffin was sealed.

I caught the glance from Richter. Then from Roze. Even Stiletto’s fingers flexed. We were all thinking the same thing.

He’s done.

Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. A colonel who disrespects The Lieutenant doesn’t survive. And you wouldn’t have to lift a hand. We’d do it for you. Gladly. Jump at the opportunity. Rip him apart like the weak link he was. You were too valuable to lose. Too essential to the brutality that kept us feared.

And that colonel? He wouldn’t last a week.

I saw it in his face when your eyes locked on his—a flicker of something real behind the arrogance. Regret.

Because finally, finally, he understood what the rest of us already knew:

You weren’t just a killer.

You were the reason killers like us still had a place to belong.

And the only reason you were here at all?

Because someone higher than all of us—someone with blood on their throne and a name none of us spoke lightly—asked you to be.

And when they ask, even monsters listen.