Arem Zyke — POV
The hotel hallway is silent, cold, polished to perfection.
My footsteps echo against the expensive marble floor—steady, unhurried, dominant.
Lion follows a step behind me, as he always does. Silent. Alert. Obedient.
I stop in front of the VIP suite.
Lion moves instantly, swiping the key card.
The door opens.
I step inside.
The scent of wealth clings to the air—leather, wood, power.
I shrug off my coat, loosen my tie, and sink into the couch like a king returning to his throne. The tension in my shoulders eases, but only slightly.
Lion pours whiskey without being told.
He hands me the glass.
I take it, lean back, and let the amber liquid slide down my throat.
Warm. Sharp. Familiar.
My eyes close.
"Lion."
He straightens immediately, standing before me like a soldier awaiting orders.
"Yes, boss."
"Arrange a normal apartment," I say calmly. "Some ordinary building. Nothing expensive. I'm moving out of here."
He nods. "Yes, boss."
There's a pause.
