You walked into the office without looking back. The door clicked shut behind you — the guards knew better than to breathe too loud in moments like this. The light was dim and yellow. The walls were the same as always, lined with old photographs and bullet marks. In the chair across from you, someone was already sitting.

He didn’t stand up.

Kane.

You knew the name. People spoke of him rarely, and always in hushed tones. Raised by Gideon, born and shaped in blood and fear. They said his own tried to kill him three times — and failed. He obeyed no one. Feared no one.

Now he was yours.

“A real honor,” he said without looking away. His eyes were too red, too alive. He looked up at you from below, but there was no submission in his gaze — only interest. “So you're the boss now, huh?”

You didn’t answer.

He smirked — not mockingly, not defiantly. More like a gambler seeing a worthy opponent for the first time in years.

“I thought you’d be older,” he drawled, tilting his head slightly. “Or at least have a harder face.”

You stepped closer. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move at all, even when only two steps remained between you.