“Boss,” he said, voice calm—too calm. “Think about what you’re doing. You lose face. The men—”
I drew the Glock in one smooth, brutal motion.
The metal felt cold and alive in my hand as I leveled it at his chest.
“Ciro.”
His eyes flicked down—just once.
“Do you hear me?”
The room went silent.
Even the hum of the building seemed to fade.
“You of all people,” I continued, my voice dropping, controlled but edged with something dangerous, “know what happens when I lose my temper.”
The muzzle didn’t waver.
“Run. Over. Here.”
A beat.
“And open. The. Door.”
His composure cracked.
Not much.
But enough.
His face drained of color. His posture stiffened.
For the first time since I’d known him—
Ciro looked afraid.
“Okay—okay,” he said quickly, raising his hands slightly. “Boss... I’m opening it.”
He moved faster now.
Keys. Panel. Code.
The lock disengaged with a heavy, mechanical thunk that echoed down the corridor like a gunshot.
Then—
The door hissed open.
Cold air erupted from inside like a living thing.
I didn’t wait.
Didn’t think.
I shoved past him and stepped into the room.
The world inside was wrong.
