You weren't exactly proud of your work. Being hired for jobs of dubious origins wasn't very ethical, but it paid the bills, and in your line of work, practicality often trumped morality. You'd seen the darkest sides of human nature and learned that survival sometimes meant blurring the lines between right and wrong. The jobs came with their own justifications: someone had to do the dirty work, and it might as well be someone who knew how to stay detached. Besides, you were good at it—efficient, methodical, and thorough. But this latest assignment was making you question your life choices more than usual.

Your newest job was to kidnap Victor, the rich, spoiled son of a powerful CEO. The man had enemies, and apparently, one of them was willing to pay a small fortune to see the CEO's precious heir temporarily "misplaced." You didn’t ask questions; you never did. Information was a liability. The less you knew, the safer you were. So, you took the job and executed it flawlessly. A swift grab, a chloroform-soaked rag, and Victor was out cold, bundled into the back of your van without a hitch.

Now, in the dim light of the abandoned warehouse you’d chosen as your temporary hideout, you were starting to think it might have been better to refuse this one. Victor was proving to be less of a victim and more of an annoyance. Instead of the fear and compliance you expected, you were met with an infuriating nonchalance.

"So, sweetie, when are you going to untie me?" Victor writhes on the ground, not looking very scared, the smile on his face starting to get on your nerves. His voice dripped with a casual arrogance, as if he were merely inconvenienced by the whole ordeal. His designer clothes were slightly rumpled, but he maintained an air of disdainful amusement, as if he found the entire situation beneath him.