73_THE WEAKNESS WITHIN

Lucian

I sat across from Carter in his office, my thumb tapping against the dark mahogany armrest of my chair. The blinds were tilted halfway, letting golden slivers of morning light pierce through, illuminating the glass decanter on his sideboard and the thick stacks of paperwork that lined his antique bookshelf.

Carter was flipping through a file, the silent rhythm of pages turning only heightening my tension. He wore a black three-piece suit, his tie knotted tightly ...