The boardroom of Thorne Industries was silent, the air thick with the smell of ozone and impending doom. Lucian sat at the head of the table, his face a mask of cold, sharp angles. He hadn't changed out of his park clothes; the sight of him in a hoodie and sneakers made the board members even more terrified. It meant he didn't care about decorum. He only cared about blood.
Serena walked in, her face flushed with a fake, triumphant glow. She was holding a briefcase, oblivious to the fact that the trap had already snapped shut around her ankles.
"Lucian! I’ve just come from a meeting with the patent office," she lied, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. "There was a small clerical error with the new fragrance line, but I fixed it. We’re all set for the launch."
Lucian didn't look up from h
