My days are getting boring.
Why am I still here?
Who even are these people?
Snakes. Seriously? Out of all possible names, they went with Snakes? Can't they be a little creative?
I've started exploring this place more, because what else am I supposed to do? Surprisingly, it has everything—gym, pool, hot tub, spa, bar, garden, rooftop, even a library.
A library.
Who owns a criminal organization with a library?
This place is too big. I've already wandered through its corners and hidden turns, but for some reason, I'm not allowed on the third floor. Only the rooftop is permitted.
That alone tells me the third floor is where the real truth sits.
It's been a month now.
A month of quiet so thick it feels like a warning.
This peace—it's starting to make me anxious. Everything is too calm, too perfect, like it's preparing to invite a tsunami.
Then one day, someone knocked on my door.
Not the usual knock of the servants.
This one was different—precise, confident, and followed by a voice I didn't know but somehow recognized.
"May I come in?"
I inhaled deeply, straightened my posture, and said, "Come in."
A tall man stepped inside—dressed completely in black. Not even the tips of his fingers were visible. His head was wrapped in elegant black silk, and a fine net covered his eyes, making him look like a shadow that learned how to walk.
"I hope your stay is comfortable, and everything is to your liking," he said.
His voice was polite, but there was an unsettling sweetness to it that sent a chill up my spine.
"It's nice," I replied. "A little too nice."
He chuckled—low, deep—and began walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps.
I knew those steps.
Kitten used them all the time when he tried to play the scary, dominant idiot with me.
"What's your connection with Raven?" I asked.