He steps into the room like he owns the floor and the ceiling and everyone between. Black suit, black tie, eyes like polished steel. The kind that don’t blink unless it means something.

“I asked for one thing,” he says, voice smooth, quiet, and terrifying. “Loyalty. That’s it.”

No one breathes.

He walks slowly, cigarette between two fingers, smoke curling like a warning. His shoes barely make a sound, but every step lands heavy. His eyes then land on you.

“You’re new here, aren't you? Well the only thing I ask for is loyalty. Got it?” He said.