Fortunately, our relationship was purely professional. This clarity made things simpler, knowing our exact positions, withboth of us feeling free to express ourselves openly. It ensured a transparent and direct dynamic, reducing potential risks.
We maintained a polite demeanor, professional and measured, driven solely by our own interests.
“Thal, good to see you,” he greeted, his voice warm yet detached, as his assistant ushered me into his office.
He was dressed impeccably, as always, in a custom-tailored black silk Armani suit that hugged his frame perfectly.
I recognized the style. I had almost the same in my closet. While I preferred the comfort of jeans and T-shirts, in this city of glitz and glamour, image was everything. His long, jet-black hair was slicked back, and his sharp, observant eyes, like those of a hawk, held a piercing gaze.
“Can I get you a drink? Bourbon?” he asked, walking over to the bar that lined the wall, raising a glass of Double Eagle bourbon as he approached. “It’s five thousand a bottle, and my distributor handed it to me for free last week.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you have to bribe him for it?” I replied, taking the glass from him. “I’ve been trying to stock that at my casino for a year, and there’s a damn waitlist.”
“Let’s just say he owed me a favor,” he said, his chuckle low and knowing.
I chose not to press. In this city, curiosity was a death sentence. Aidon filled the space, shadows from The Underworld seemingly tethered to his shoulders. I settled into the leather chair, the bourbon hitting my gut like liquid fire.
Most people thought I was neutral because I didn't leave a trail of bodies. They were wrong. I was efficient rather than soft. But looking at Aidon’s clinical, cold smile, I realized that efficiency was over. To keep Daphne, I wasn't just going to have to get my hands dirty. I was going to have to become the very monster Zeno warned her about.
To keep Daphne, I was going to have to get my hands filthier than I’d ever imagined.
I got straight to the point, adhering to my preference for direct communication. There's no time for small talk because my message is urgent.
“I’ve discovered a major threat I need to inform you about.”
His eyes sharpened. “A threat? Tell me more.”
I paused to select my words. “While working on another case, I found that a syndicate is planning an attack on our network. This isn’t only affecting yours or mine but also Zeno’s," I explained.
He leaned in, hesitation flashing across his face. “A syndicate? Do you mean Rhea?”
“Exactly.” I nodded in agreement. “If she manages to carry out her plans, the harm could be severe, leaving lasting scars that will take years to recover from long after the initial attack.”
His brow furrowed. “And you have details of this impending attack?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And what do you suggest we do to stop her? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he pressed.
“Indeed,” I responded. “I propose we combine our efforts and collaborate to stop her early on, before her threat materializes into reality.”
“And by ‘we,’ you mean me, you, and Daphne?” He raised an eyebrow, the curiosity evident on his face. “Have you already told Zeno?”
“No, I haven’t,” I said.
“You’re leaving that up to Daphne?”
“Not exactly,” I said, breaking his gaze.
Aidon leaned back in his chair, a dry, knowing chuckle escaping him. “I’m not blind, Thal. I saw the way you looked at her at The Underworld. You didn't look at her like she wasZeno’s collateral or a piece of the puzzle. You looked at her like she was the air in your lungs. I'm just wondering if you've already crossed the line.”
I let the Ice King mask drop, revealing the jagged, obsessive hunger beneath. “I don't just have eyes on her, Aidon. I’ve branded her. Every inch of her skin, every broken sob she surrendered to me last night, it’s all mine. Zeno isn't a guardian anymore. He’s a ghost haunting a throne I’ve already burned to the ground. She isn't his ward. She’s my queen, and God help the man who tries to remind her of her leash.”
“Thal, you, Zeno, and I go way back, but this is a step too far, man.” His voice was low, calm, and measured, yet his words carried weight, as if he felt some responsibility to correct a wrong he believed was happening. “Zeno is insanely protective of her.”
I scoffed, “If he was truly responsible, he’d have always ensured her safety. But I can tell you that’s not happening. She’s apparently one of Rhea’s targets as well, and Zeno isn’t doing anything about it.”
“And so that means she’s your responsibility now? Why is that?”
