James was in a room of target practice, skillfully throwing knives toward the middle of the target. Never missing.

When he hears the sound of footsteps, he looks annoyed. He had asked to have the room alone, just for an hour, and yet someone had come to interrupt him.

He sighs, knowing that he cannot just kill someone allowed to roam the grounds of this mafia.

But if he was in charge, he would show no mercy.