The office was quiet, but Alvin Reed's mind wasn't. Damian's voice kept circling back, echoing in the space between his thoughts like a weight he couldn't shake off.
You have no choice.
The words had been simple, but the way Damian said them left no room for escape. It wasn't a threat. It wasn't even a warning. It was a fact.
Alvin sat behind his desk, fingers tapping once against the polished surface before going still. His eyes drifted to the far corner of the room, unfocused. He'd been here a thousand times, staring at the same walls, but tonight the air felt heavier. Almost as if the past itself was pressing against him.
His hand slid absently down to his wrist, rubbing it like a man trying to soothe an ache only he could feel. The gesture was unconscious, but the sensation was not. He could almost feel the heat of a branded crest, even though nothing was there.
Damian's words lingered again. You have no choice.
