The voice note from Pablo "The Butcher" Romero had ended ten minutes ago, but the echo of his growl still hung in the air like cigar smoke.
Michael Sterling sat in his leather chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. He stared at the blank screen of the iPhone.
"So," Arthur Milton whispered from behind a cushion on the sofa. "Just to clarify, Boss. We are now taking orders from an Argentine cattle rancher who used to headbutt referees for a living?"
"We are not taking orders, Arthur," Michael said, though his voice lacked conviction. "We are... aligning our interests."
"Aligning interests?" Kenji Sato scoffed, pacing the room in his silk kimono. "He wants us to slaughter Dortmund! He wants blood! My insurance does not cover ritual sacrifice, Michael!"
