The bass from the lower floors of the lounge does not shake the private executive suite, it merely vibrates through the soles of expensive leather shoes like a distant, heavy heartbeat.

Amber light bleeds from hidden fixtures, catching the slow swirl of liquor in Niko’s glass.

Niko doesn’t drink. He holds the crystal tumbler, his knuckles white, his gaze fixed on the rain-slicked roofs of the city below.

A fresh, sterile bandage is wrapped tightly around his left forearm beneath his tailored sleeve—a reminder of the chaos at the engagement party—but his posture remains rigid and tense.

Across from him, lounging on a sprawling sofa that costs more than a standard citizen’s annual salary, is Orion.

Orion looks entirely untouched by the hospital drama. He’s changed out of the clothes faintly stained with Peter’s blood, and is now wearing a black silk shirt with the top buttons casually undone.

He balances his own glass on his knee, his long, scarred fingers tapping a slow and steady rhythm against the crystal. There is a terrifying serenity to him, the calm of a predator who has just fed and is now waiting for the next hunt to begin.

"He’s a walking problem, Orion," Niko says, his voice cutting through the low hum of the room’s air conditioning. He turns around, his amber eyes hard, boring into the relaxed figure on the sofa.

"Your puppy is a liability we cannot afford to keep on the board. He isn’t going to talk. You sat across from him in that cafeteria, played your little psychological games, and what did you get? A bit of silence, some trembling, and a stubborn, pathetic refusal to give up anything useful. He isn’t going to answer our questions, and he isn’t going to try to explain anything to us."

Niko takes two sharp steps toward the dark marble coffee table, setting his untouched glass down sharply.

"Why are we keeping him alive? Why don’t we just kill Adrien and be done with it?" Niko demands, leaning forward, pressing his flat palms against the marble. "One bullet, or a simple snap of the wrist like you did to the other billionaire. Then we dump the body, erase his registry file, and sever the connection before Masamune can use him even more. It’s the only logical move."

Orion slowly raises his heavy-lidded eyes. The dark, bottomless depth in them makes Niko’s breath hitch slightly, though the man doesn’t break eye contact. A slow, lazy smirk touches Orion’s lips, the dark amusement never truly leaving his features.

"Logical, you say?" Orion purrs, the words rolling off his tongue like a dark velvet threat. He tilts his glass, watching the ice cube slide against the crystal. "You always did have such a beautifully straight mind, Niko. It’s why you’re so excellent at managing logistics, and so utterly tragic at anything truly creative."

Orion sets his glass down, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The playful, mocking air remains, but underneath it, the cold, terrifying intellect that controls his violence begins to bleed through.

"Tell me," Orion says softly. "How exactly did our external sweep discover Adrien’s supposed current dealings with the syndicate? Walk me through how we did it again."

Niko frowns, his brow furrowing. "The digital signatures on the perimeter comms were intercepted by us. The localized ping placed the data packets right in the courtyard which Adrien was occupying just minutes before the blast."

"Exactly," Orion says, a sharp, white smile flashing in the dim light. "It was practically screaming Masamune. And this syndicate that has successfully evaded and bypassed high-society intelligence networks, and executed an almost flawless act of terrorism...suddenly leaves a trail of glowing neon breadcrumbs leading directly to a terrified, mouthy boy who looks like he’s about to vomit every time I go silent?"

Orion lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, leaning back into the sofa cushions. "The discovery is suspicious on its own, Niko. They didn’t hide his trail because they didn’t want to hide it. His exposure wasn’t a triumph of our intelligence network. It was a delivery. Masamune wanted us to find out. They laid the boy out on a silver platter, wrapped him in suspicion, and handed us the knife."

His grin widens. "They don’t want us to think he has something to do with the bombing, they want the other so-called elites to think that."

Niko straightens up, his jaw tight. He crosses his arms, his analytical mind fighting back against Orion’s psychological analysis.

"Even if they wanted them to find out, Orion, that still doesn’t mean it’s a lie," Niko argues, his tone growing sharper, more insistent. "It doesn’t mean his involvement isn’t real. Think about it, if they keep coming after him like this, if they are willing to detonate a high-society party just to manipulate his position on our board, then Adrien’s involvement is significantly more than we think."

Orion stares at Niko for a long, silent moment. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, mimicking the suffocating atmosphere of the hospital cafeteria from hours prior. Then, Orion’s shoulders begin to shake.

A rich, genuine laugh fills the private suite. It is a dark sound, dripping with pure amusement.

"Oh, Niko," Orion gasps lightly, shaking his head as he wipes an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. "You truly are a delight. Do you really think that sweet, trembling little creature is the only reason the engagement party was bombed?"

Niko stiffens, insulted by the mockery. "He is the only recurring name—"

"If you truly believe that," Orion interrupts, his voice suddenly dropping its playful edge, turning into a freezing, razor-sharp whisper that echoes off the glass walls, "then you are being embarrassingly shortsighted, and that is not like you. Did you knock your head against Alexis’s during the blast?"

Orion stands up, his towering frame casting a long, imposing shadow across the room. He walks slowly toward the window, looking out over the rain-slicked city, his hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets.

"Masamune is ambitious, yes, but they are not foolish enough to wage a total war against the ruling elite houses over a single, insignificant boy," Orion murmurs, his dark gaze reflecting in the glass. "The bomb wasn’t an execution method for Adrien, nor was it some sort of rescue mission."

"The bomb was a declaration of war against all of us. If I kill him now, the game ends before I’ve even had a chance to enjoy it. So, to answer your question— No, we keep duckling close. We watch him lie, and we wait to see exactly whose hand is truly pulling his strings."

Orion turns back to Niko, his predatory smirk firmly back in place. "Besides. He looks so utterly delicious when he’s terrified. It would be such a waste to cut his throat so soon."

"Or don’t you think so too?"