In the sleek, dimly lit penthouse overlooking Sunderland, Rex lounged in his leather chair, a glass of dark whiskey swirling lazily in his hand. The amber liquid caught the low light, casting flickering reflections on the walls. His eyes were distant, lost in the memory of that unforgettable day — the day he finally claimed Kiaan, the boy who had been such a challenge, such a prize.
A slow, satisfied smirk curved Rex's lips as he recalled the power he wielded, the control he'd imposed. The image of Kiaan's struggle, the way he'd marked him, owned him — it played on repeat in his mind like a dark symphony.
From across the room, Arav's fingers flew over the keyboard, typing rapidly into the security system, tracking the new drug routes and ensuring every blind spot was covered. He glanced up briefly, catching the subtle shift in his boss's expression. "You're thinking about that day again," Arav said quietly, breaking the silence.
Rex nodded slowly, eyes never leaving the distant city lights. "That day changed everything. I finally got what I wanted… and he's mine now."
Arav paused, cautious but curious. "What's the plan now, sir?"
Rex's smirk deepened into a sly grin. He picked up the phone, voice low and commanding as he called his assistant. "I want one of our men embedded in that secret agent team… starting tomorrow. Someone who can watch every move Kiaan makes, every breath he takes."
He tapped the glass against the table with quiet menace. "No more surprises. I want eyes inside his world — a spy. Someone loyal, ruthless enough to keep me informed on Kiaan's every moment."
Arav looked up, nodding. "I'll arrange it immediately. We'll have a man in place before dawn."
Rex's gaze hardened, a dark fire lighting in his eyes. "Good. Because this game is far from over. Kiaan's still my pawn… and I intend to keep him close."
The penthouse was silent once more, the only sound the steady hum of the city below — unaware that a shadow was about to slip into the light, and the game of cat and mouse would begin anew.