That was the first mistake the man on the other end of the call made—thinking the quiet meant restraint.
The buyer stood alone in his office, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to his forearms.The space had been designed for authority, dark wood, soundproofed walls, floors laid in seamless laminate that could be wiped clean without staining.He’d chosen it deliberately.Not for aesthetics.For practicality.
The call ended.
He stared at the black screen for a long moment, breathing slow and even, as the information settled into place.
Dead.
Not injured.Not delayed.
Dead.
An entire retrieval team erased.
The drone footage had cut out mid-feed, corrupted on purpose.That, more than the losses, infuriated him.He paid for certainty.For control.For outcomes that could be measured and enforced.
This was chaos.
His fingers curled slowly against the desk.
“She was there,” he said to the empty room.It wasn’t a question.“And you failed.”
A shape detached itself from the shadows near the door.
“Yes, sir.”
The man didn’t step closer.He knew better.The buyer turned then, eyes cold, expression carved from entitlement and fury.
“They held her at a location with a fortified structure,” the man continued carefully.“Military-grade response.Automated defenses.Whoever has her—"
“She belongs to me,” the buyer cut in.
Silence snapped tight between them.
“She was paid for,” he went on, voice calm now in the way that preceded violence.“Her skills.Her memory.Her body.Those were the terms of sale.Binding terms.”
The man swallowed.“Yes, sir.”
He gestured once.
Another man stepped forward.
Steel flashed.
The blade opened the first man’s throat so cleanly there was no sound at all—just a wet, startled exhale as he collapsed to the floor, blood spreading fast across the laminate.The buyer watched it with detached interest, noting how quickly it pooled.
He’d been right about the flooring.
“Clean this up,” he said.
The shadowed man nodded and dragged the body away without ceremony.
The buyer returned to his desk and poured himself a drink he didn’t intend to finish.
“They think they’ve won,” he murmured.
He took a single sip and set the glass aside.
