Nikolai

"Your employee...Isaac Carter, where is he?" I ask, the question sharp and cutting through the silence in the room. The man tied to the chair shifts uncomfortably, sweat already breaking out on his forehead. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone to break into his office, not after it was locked up for the night. I bet he feels unlucky as shit right now.

Across the room, King sits on a worn leather sofa, his expression a menacing mask of fury and resolve. It's been that way ...