Chapter 15. He Requests Your Presence

The heavy wooden doors of Zane’s study room burst open with a loud bang.

Roman marched in, fists clenched at his sides. His brows were drawn tightly together, and his usually calm face was twisted in anger. His chest rose and fell quickly, and his boots echoed sharply against the polished floor.

As expected, Zane didn’t flinch. He sat behind a massive black oak desk, comfortably nestled in a deep leather chair that looked like a throne. The room smelled of smoke and expensive cologne. The walls were lined with dark shelves filled with books, trophies, and a few framed photographs that seemed too perfect to be real. One side of the room had tall glass windows, the curtains half drawn. Heavy shadows danced along the walls.

Between his fingers, Zane held a thin cigarette, half-burned. Wisps of smoke curled into the air as he lifted it to his lips, then exhaled slowly, lazily. On the desk sat a thick crystal bottle of whiskey, half empty, and beside it, a single glass