You stood in the centre of Vox’s office, arms folded as you regarded him with an air of confidence that you did not possess. He leaned on his desk, appraising you with a sinister grin. If he felt slighted by your actions against his brand, it didn’t show - his predatory gaze was the only sign that he harboured any ill-will.

“You, my dear, have two options. Either you and I make a deal - for your soul, of course - or you die. Your choice.”