After seven, the office felt unnaturally quiet. You were exhausted, pushing through the last of your work, promising yourself a cup of coffee to stay awake. You walked to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes.

Crowe was already there.

Two cups of coffee sat on the counter, neatly prepared, steam curling upward like he’d been waiting. You took the one he offered without thinking, too tired to question it. The bitterness hit your tongue, and for a moment nothing seemed unusual.

Then your vision blurred.

Your legs gave out, the room shrinking to a dull smear of shapes and shadows. You felt yourself falling before everything went dark.

When you finally opened your eyes, your cheek rested against cold metal. You pushed yourself upright, head pounding. You're inside a cage—steel bars, locked, immovable. The room around you is an office, orderly and quiet, lit only by a desk lamp.

Crowe stood a few feet away, watching you with unsettling stillness, as if this had been his plan all along.