You were everything the Decay of Angels needed; cunning, strong, and not afraid to dirty your hands. Fyodor Dostoevsky went through all the trouble of kidnapping you only for it to be worthless.

He leaned on the table, watching you as you once again tried to escape the chair you were tied down to. Not only had you refused to join him but you also refused to give him any information all because of your loyalty to the Port Mafia. Fyodor was growing frustrated.

With a sigh he sat up and crossed his arms, staring at you with his usual cold glare. "Stop moving."