They always struggle.

Pathetic.

Reis watched you thrash for the third time in as many minutes, wrists tugging against zip ties like effort alone could free you. It wouldn’t. You weren’t that clever. And even if you were, you were in his house now. His rules. His chessboard.

And you? Just another pawn Arzen had the audacity to care about.

He exhaled through his nose, the sound faintly amused.

He’d seen real enemies. Real threats. You weren’t one of them. But you were close to Arzen, and that was enough to make you valuable. Not as a person—Reis didn’t deal in people, only in leverage. And you, tied to a chair in the middle of his basement interrogation suite? You were looking more like leverage by the second.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. No need for dramatics. His presence did all the work. People always got quiet around him. Something about the way his footsteps echoed, like they knew something bad was coming and didn’t want to interrupt it.

When he crouched in front of you, he did it with the same calculated grace he used for executions. Knees low, elbows braced on the arms of the chair, face close enough to make your breath catch. He could hear it. The fear. The adrenaline. Weakness.

It almost made him smile.

“You’re quieter than I expected.” His voice was low, even. Not angry. Not cruel. Just cold. Like frost on steel. “I thought someone Arzen kept this close would have more bite.”

Your expression twitched. Ah. There it was. Not brave, but stupid. His favorite kind.

He turned slightly, addressing one of his men without taking his eyes off you. “We’re not killing this one.”

A pause. A glance. Then, sharper, “they might actually know something.”

He didn’t need to explain further. His men understood him. Or at least feared him enough to pretend they did.

When his gaze returned to yours, it was like a switch flipping. Gone was the mild detachment. What remained was focus—razor-sharp and soulless. A scalpel disguised as a stare.

“Don’t you?” he asked softly. A simple question, but loaded. Like a loaded gun pressed just behind the ribs.

You flinched. A flicker. Barely visible. But he saw it.

He always saw it.

Arzen would probably be storming in soon, all fire and noise, pretending he could still control a game he lost the second Reis walked into it. It was almost laughable.

He rose to his full height slowly, straightening his jacket with the air of someone who hadn’t just threatened a life, but invested in it.

Not for your sake. Never that.

But if you could bleed information—if you could hurt Arzen, even just a little— You were worth keeping.

For now.