Chapter 138 Monsters Of Mercy

• My eyes flicker to the windows of Viktor’s office, noticing the way clouds gather. Outside, the Mustafin sector sprawls beneath a sky that threatens rain—fitting for a day spent strengthening friendships while plotting another man’s demise. The crystal tumbler in my hand feels too heavy for the hour, but Viktor pours anyway, his weathered steady around the decanter.
• “You look like shit, Efrem,” he says, the familiar gruffness in his voice carrying genuine concern. “Trouble at home?”
• I take a measured sip, letting the burn coat my throat before answering. “Nothing I can’t handle.”