ROLAND’S POV
The dimly lit room smelled faintly of whiskey and cigar smoke,
the air is heavy with tension. Roland sat at his massive oak desk, his fingers absently toying with a knife hidden just beneath the surface.
His jaw clenched tightly, every muscle in his face taut with irritation.
Across from him, the man who dared to laugh at his suggestion sat sprawled in a chair, his amusement cutting through the silence like nails on glass.
Roland’s patience was thin. Very thin.
The man’s laughter, hearty and booming, grated on Roland’s nerves with each passing second.
He gripped the hilt of the knife tighter, momentarily imagining driving it straight into the center of that smug face.
The thought was a fleeting temptation, but Roland knew better than to let his emotions dictate his actions. Not yet, anyway.
“You’re serious?” the man finally asked, wiping at his eyes as if Roland’s proposal was the punchline of a joke he hadn’t heard in years.
Roland leaned back in his chair, his fingers reluctantly releasing the knife.
He clasped his hands together, the faint scar running across his knuckles a silent reminder of what happened to those who underestimated him.
His piercing gaze bore into the man, who, despite his laughter, now shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Roland’s voice was calm, icy, and laced with menace.
The man stopped laughing abruptly, the reality of the situation beginning to dawn on him. “Look, Roland,” he began, his tone cautious, “you don’t just go around kidnapping someone like her. There are-”
“Consequences?” Roland cut in smoothly. “Repercussions?” He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “Do you think I haven’t already calculated the risks?”
The man hesitated, his bravado faltering. “It’s not just risks. It’s the fallout. Sasha’s not just some random woman.”
“She’s married to Sebastian, and you know as well as I do what kind of man he is. You touch her, and he’ll come for blood. Yours, mine, everyone’s.”
Roland smirked, a cruel edge to his lips. “Do you think I’m afraid of Sebastian? That I haven’t factored him into the equation?”
“You should be,” the man retorted, his voice steadying as he leaned forward.
“That guy’s a different breed. He doesn’t just retaliate-he annihilates. You take his wife, and he’ll tear down everything you’ve built. Hell, he’ll probably do it just for fun.”
Roland’s smirk deepened into a full-blown grin, his teeth flashing like a predator’s. He leaned forward as well, their faces now inches apart.
“And that’s exactly why I want her,” he said, his tone dripping with venom.
The man frowned, confusion clouding his features. “What?”
“Sasha isn’t just leverage,” Roland explained, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“She’s the one thing Sebastian values more than anything else. If I have her, I control him. And if I control him, I control everything.”
The man leaned back, shaking his head. “You’re insane. You think you can tame a wild dog like him? You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t rip your throat out the second he finds out.”
Roland chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent a shiver down the man’s spine.
“Let him try. By the time he figures out what’s happening, it’ll be too late. Sasha will already be mine.”
The man stared at him, his expression a mix of disbelief and reluctant admiration. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” he said finally.
“But this is a suicide mission. And I don’t plan on going down with you.”
Roland’s grin vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. He reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a thick brown envelope.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto the desk, the sound of it landing breaking the silence like a gunshot.
The man eyed the envelope warily but made no move to touch it.
“Open it,” Roland commanded.
After a moment’s hesitation, the man reached for the envelope. His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the clasp and peered inside.
His eyes widened almost comically as he took in the stacks of cash neatly bundled together.
“That’s half,” Roland said, his tone matter-of-fact. “You get the other half once the job’s done.”
The man looked up at him, his expression unreadable. “You think money’s enough to convince me to go up against Sebastian?”
“It’s not just money,” Roland said, his voice softer now, almost persuasive.
“It’s power. You help me, and I’ll make sure you’re untouchable. No more looking over your shoulder, no more scraping by. You’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted.”
The man hesitated, his fingers still clutching the envelope. For a moment, it seemed as though he might refuse.
But then Roland reached into the drawer again and pulled out a second envelope, identical to the first.
“This,” Roland said, placing it on the desk, “is for your family. Think of it as insurance. You do this job, and they’re taken care of. For life.”
The man’s resolve crumbled. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as he fought to maintain his composure.
Finally, he reached for the second envelope, his hands shaking as he opened it.
The sight of the money inside made his breath hitch. He closed the envelope quickly, as if afraid someone might see.
Clearing his throat, he looked up at Roland, his face pale but determined. “I’m in,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Roland’s grin returned, triumphant and wicked. “Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair once more.
“Now, let’s talk about the details.”
For the next hour, the two men discussed the plan in hushed tones, their voices barely carrying over the hum of the air conditioning.
Roland laid out every step of the operation with meticulous precision, his mind working like a well-oiled machine.
The man listened intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions, his earlier hesitation replaced by a grim determination.
By the time they finished, the room felt heavier, as if the weight of their conspiracy had seeped into the walls. The man stood, tucking both envelopes under his arm.
“You’d better hope this works,” he said, his voice hard. “Because if it doesn’t, we’re both dead.”
Roland rose as well, his expression unreadable. “It will work,” he said simply.
The man nodded once, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving Roland alone with his thoughts.
As the door clicked shut, Roland reached for the knife again, his fingers curling around the hilt.
He pulled it out from beneath the desk and examined it, the blade gleaming in the dim light.
Sebastian thought he was untouchable, that no one could challenge him. But Roland would prove him wrong.
With Sasha in his grasp, the balance of power would shift. And when it did, Sebastian would finally understand what it meant to lose everything.
Roland smiled to himself, a dark, sinister smile that hinted at the chaos to come.
This was only the beginning.