I stood in the Lane family compound, watching as Blaze Lane's facade of composure cracked beneath my gaze. The room reeked of fear and broken pride. Behind him, his son Asher groaned weakly among the splintered remains of the antique cabinet.
"For the last time," I said, each word precise and cold, "kneel and apologize for the assassination attempt."
Blaze's eyes darted to his whimpering son, then back to me. The arrogance that had defined him was rapidly giving way to desperation.
"Let's be reasonable, Knight," he said, forcing a conciliatory smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Business is business. You've made your point. Perhaps we can reach an arrangement that benefits us both."
I remained silent, watching him squirm.
"Think about it," Blaze continued, growing animated as he sensed an opening. "With your talents and my connections, we could dominate this city together. The past is the past—why not look to the future?"
