A ghost of a smile touched Rogue’s lips, not reaching his eyes. "Point taken. The audience is dismissed." He didn’t raise his voice, but the effect was immediate. Silas hesitated, looking like he wanted to protest, but one icy glance from Rogue silenced him. He jerked his head, and the men around the perimeter melted back into the deeper shadows near the walls, disappearing like wraiths. Only Silas remained, hovering awkwardly a few feet behind Rogue, radiating resentment."Better?" Rogue asked, turning his attention back to me. He gestured towards the far end of the warehouse, where a small, incongruous island of light and relative order existed. An old, scarred oak desk, two heavy leather armchairs, and a sideboard holding crystal decanters glinted under a single, suspended industrial lamp. "Join me. We have much to discuss. And I find difficult conversations flow easier with good scotch."Scotch. An offer of hospitality in the belly of the beast. Another move designed to unsettle.
Last Updated : 2025-06-02 Read more