The door to Drakon’s private office stood slightly ajar, the heavy silence inside broken only by the quiet, measured breathing of the men waiting.
Drakon pushed the door open smoothly, stepping across the threshold with an air of unyielding authority. Roman was already inside, seated casually in one of the heavy leather armchairs across from the main desk, with Jeremy standing shoulder-to-shoulder right behind him like a silent, watchful shadow. Roman looked immaculate in a sharp suit, though the slight tension in his posture betrayed just how much he hated having his men disarmed at our gates.
Four of our own compound guards stood silent and stone-faced along the perimeter walls, their hands resting near their tactical holsters, while Bastian leaned casually against the side bookshelf w
