Victor set the tablet down with a click that was, by all technical standards, not violent.
It was fine.
It was fine.
It was just that the fourth executive this week had sent him a request marked urgent that was, in fact, not urgent. It was a schedule adjustment for a gala he didn't even plan to attend.
He could handle betrayal. Insubordination. Even the occasional assassination attempt made by someone with enough creativity to be briefly interesting.
What he could not handle, what he had never handled well, was idiocy in a tie with a badge that read Division Lead.
Victor exhaled slowly through his nose, pinched the bridge of it, and reminded himself that he was a god.
A god, unfortunately, pretending to work like a mortal man.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Keep the machine running. Keep people under the illusion that power could be earned and that loyalty was a structure, not a favor.
But this week had tried his patience in new and vibrant ways.
