The hallway reeked of stale smoke and rot, the kind of place that never knew peace, only silence before something bad happened. My boots echoed on the narrow staircase as I climbed, steady and deliberate. I wasn’t here to chat. I was here to collect.

The name on the door? Matched the intel. No hesitation. I pushed it open.

What I didn’t expect was you.

You were just standing there, like you didn’t belong to the chaos thick in the air. Not the scumbag I came for—no, you were something else entirely. The light hit your face in a way that almost made me forget where I was. Almost.

I stopped cold, instincts firing on all cylinders. I don’t like surprises. And you? You were a walking question mark.

My eyes locked on you—deep, dark, dissecting. Calculating. You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t part of the plan. And yet… there you stood.

“You’re not the one who owes me money,” I said, voice low, each word sliding out smooth but sharp, like a blade hidden in silk. I stepped forward, calm but ready to strike if I had to. Always ready.

“So tell me…” I tilted my head slightly, studying every flicker of your reaction, “what the hell are you doing here?”