"Yes! I was sent to spy on her!"
Tryson halted, the cotton just a breath away from making contact. A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips as he straightened, eyes gleaming with triumph.
Tryson slowly peeled the cotton away from the man’s face, his sharp eyes locked onto the bruised figure before him.
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips as he spoke, his voice deceptively calm.
"So, you were sent to spy on her."
The man swallowed hard and gave a stiff nod.
Tryson’s gaze darkened. "Your other people—tell where they’re located."
For a fleeting mont, the man hesitated, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.
Tryson, evidently out of patience for the man’s theatrics, lifted the dampened cotton once more. But before he could press it back against the man’s skin, the prisoner blurted out frantically,
"Really, really! Mr. Arthur promised a huge sum if I just did this job!" His voice was rushed, desperate, his breath uneven.
Tryson’s expression shifted, a deep frown forming on his face. Sothing about this didn’t add up.
"What do you an by that?" he asked, though he already knew Arthur wouldn’t send a clueless amateur for such a job—especially not soone who would crumble so easily under pressure.
Unless...
"I know nothing about this!" the man cried out, his voice shaking with fear. "I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m just a man off the streets, and Mr. Arthur—he offered money to stand outside your suite and report whatever I saw to his n."
Tryson’s blood ran cold. His jaw clenched as the realization struck.
"Shit."
Arthur had used this man as bait.
"Fuck," Tryson muttered under his breath.
His chest tightened with paranoia—if this was just a distraction, then what the hell was Arthur really up to?
And worse... what did this an for Angel?
Without a second thought, Tryson swung his fist, landing a solid punch across the man’s jaw. The prisoner groaned, his body recoiling as pain erupted across his face.
Before he could recover, Tryson’s n stepped closer, their eyes gleaming with ruthless intent.
"So, boss..." one of them asked, his tone indifferent. "Should we kill him?"
The man on the chair flinched violently, his eyes wide with terror. He whipped his head toward Tryson and began shaking it with desperation.
"No, no, please!" he begged, his voice breaking. "Have rcy on !"
Tryson crouched to his level, his cold, dead eyes piercing straight through the man’s soul. His voice, low and deadly, sent a chill down the prisoner’s spine.
"You wouldn’t be begging if you knew this was the price of your actions."
Tears welled in the man’s eyes as he stamred, "B-but I didn’t know anything! I swear!"
Tryson scoffed, unimpressed by the man’s childish fear.
He grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back against the chair. Killing him would be pointless—he was nothing more than a disposable pawn in Arthur’s twisted ga.
No, there was a better use for him.
"Don’t kill him," Tryson ordered, his voice like ice. "He’s still useful. Arthur sent him here, so we’ll use him to lure Arthur out in return."
The man shuddered but nodded frantically, his fear outweighing any thoughts of defiance.
"I-I’ll do it! Whatever you need!" he stamred.
Tryson narrowed his eyes. "What’s your na?"
"Luca," the man replied instantly. "Luca is what they call ." His voice quivered with dread.
Tryson studied him for a mont longer, then, without another word, turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
The mont Tryson stepped out of the dimly lit room, his n imdiately closed in around him, their movents swift and efficient.
One adjusted the collar of his suit, another straightened the cuffs of his sleeves, while yet another handed him a sleek black mask.
Tryson took it wordlessly, his expression unreadable as he slipped it over his face, securing it in place.
His presence alone commanded authority, and his n knew better than to waste his ti with unnecessary chatter.
Just as he was getting fully dressed, one of his n stepped forward, his posture rigid and professional, signaling the urgency of his words.
"Sir, you have a call," the man announced, extending a phone toward him with both hands, as if handling sothing of great importance.
Tryson let out a quiet hiss of annoyance but took the device regardless, pressing it against his ear.
The voice that greeted him was urgent and laced with frustration.
"Bro, you need to get here. Fast."
It was Samson.
Tryson let out a slow exhale, lifting a hand to his forehead as he gently massaged his temples. He could already tell this was about to be a headache.
"How’s it going, Sam?" he asked, his tone clipped, but controlled.
On the other end of the line, Samson scoffed, clearly exasperated.
"Really, big bro? Are you seriously asking that right now? I told you from the start that this was a bad idea, but no—of course, you had to be stubborn about it!"
Tryson’s expression hardened. His patience was running thin. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"I’m trying to say that I’m currently hiding in the goddamn bathroom, big bro! That’s how bad it’s going!" Samson hissed, his voice dropping into a frantic whisper. "She won’t leave alone! And worse—way worse—I think she already suspects that I’m not actually you."
Tryson had already stepped outside, his long strides carrying him across the pavent toward the sleek black car waiting at the curb.
The night air was cool, but his mind was already racing too fast to notice.
As he reached the vehicle, one of his n stepped forward and pulled the door open for him. Without breaking stride, he slid smoothly into the leather seat, still holding the phone to his ear.
"Eventually, she’s going to figure it out if you’re not playing your role right," Tryson stated, his voice low, his words weighted with warning.
There was a beat of silence before Samson scoffed, clearly unimpressed by his brother’s indifference.
"Oh really, big bro? So what—you actually expect to kiss your woman?" Samson shot back, his voice a mixture of disbelief and irritation.
At that, Tryson’s expression darkened, his fingers tightening slightly around the phone. A cold, dangerous silence stretched between them.
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