There was a silence that came over the room, a silence of great weight, of a Viennese boardroom, after Casel's announcement. The great crystal chandeliers hung above, looking as if they were buzzing with the taste of Zeth's wrath, long broken shadows staining the glassened mahogany table upon which the electronic data drive was placed between the two, like a time bomb.
Zeth didn't move. His shoulders were broad and his frame tall, and he squandered his broad shoulders under his bespoke suit of charcoal grey, and looked down at Casel. From the darkness came a predator, who, in his own blood sucking ideology, rang out at him. For the first time in his life, the king of New York didn't see a victim or a running man, he saw a rival king and a king that conquered his own turf.
“A predator?,"
