I moved silently through the dimly lit hallway, my boots making no sound against the polished wooden floors. The estate was eerily quiet, the faint hum of classical music playing somewhere in the distance. I followed the sound, my fingers itching to reach for my weapon, but I held back.
As I rounded the corner, the scene before me made my jaw tighten.
Director Jackson sat at a long dining table, slicing into a perfectly cooked steak as if this were just another normal evening. A bottle of expensive red wine was uncorked beside him, a crystal glass half-filled.
He didn’t even look up as I approached. Instead, he cut another piece of steak and brought it to his mouth, chewing leisurely before finally speaking.
“I knew you’d come, Ryder,” he said smoothly, wiping the corner of his mouth w
