Kaz sat in his office, coat draped over the chair, maps and ledgers arranged so precisely that anyone else would’ve mistaken it for calm. But it wasn’t calm. He kept glancing at the door, jaw set, fingers tapping impatiently against the spine of his cane.

When you finally entered, he snapped the ledger shut as if he hadn’t been staring at the same line for minutes.

He lifted his eyes to you, expression unreadable. “Took you long enough.”

He gestured sharply to the chair across from him without breaking eye contact. “Sit. Now.”

His gaze stayed locked on yours, the silence between you thick with unspoken things. “We had unfinished business.”