DYLAN

I banged my hand on the table, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot. Chairs went back, papers fluttered, and every single person present shrieked or stiffened in fear.

Even the chairman, a man who had faced hostile meetings and courtrooms without blinking, flinched. That alone told me how badly they had miscalculated. How could they sit here, behind my back, making such reckless decisions as if my name didn’t carry weight, as if my authority was some optional decoration?

“Are you all crazy?” I roared, my voice echoing off the walls. Fear rippled across their faces. They all shook, hands trembling, eyes glued to the table. Every one of them was older than me, men with grey hair and false confidence, but none of that mattered. Age meant nothing when power was involved, and I had it. Not one of them dared to lift their head and look at me. That silence only fed the rage burning in my chest.

I was so angry I couldn’t stay in that room another second. If I did, someone would pay dearly for it. I stormed out, my footsteps heavy and sharp against the marble floor, each step carrying the promise of consequences. The doors slammed behind me, cutting off their murmurs and panic.

I tried to calm myself as I walked down the hallway, forcing air into my lungs, refusing to snap someone’s head off just to prove a point. My jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly, teeth grinding as I fought for control. Anger sat in my chest like a living thing, pacing, waiting for permission to explode.

“Sir,” one of the guards called from behind me.

I didn’t turn. I already knew what he was going to say, already knew why he was following me. There was no need for explanations.

“Take me to him,” I said, my voice cold and stern, void of emotion. He nodded quickly and moved ahead, leading the way. I followed in silence, my mind already set on what I was about to do.

The closer we got to the fire dungeon, the thicker the air felt. I could hear his groans echoing down the corridor, broken .

They got on my nerves, not out of pity, but anticipation. I knew I was about to do something extreme, something that would remind everyone exactly who they were dealing with.I hate when people forget who their dealing with.

The moment I entered, the room fell silent. The guards immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed their heads in respect. The heat, the shadows, the smell of iron and smoke all wrapped around me like a familiar feeling.

“How long?” I asked dryly, walking toward the table where the instruments were laid out with careful precision. My fingers hovered briefly before selecting a long lighter and a pocket knife.

“Ten hours now,” one of them replied.

I nodded and turned toward the man tied in the center of the room. He barely resembled a human anymore, reduced to a whimpering figure slumped in chains. He had been beaten thoroughly, punished for his loyalty to the wrong person.

Yet my thirst for revenge wasn’t satisfied. Not after what they dared to discuss in that boardroom. Not after Drake had ignited the past I wanted to forget.

If I ever got my hands on Drake himself, I would make sure he understood the meaning of fear.

I ignited the lighter, a flame came out, one that was a bit bigger than a normal lighter and was enough to finish this job.

I stepped closer to the man and brought the flame near his skin, enough to make him cry out, enough to leave a mark that would never be forgotten. Then I switched the lighter off and used the knife, carving words slowly and deliberately, my expression unreadable.I was so eager and was rushing things.

“When you get to the other world,” I said quietly, my voice steady, “remind them that I’m not someone to joke with.”

There was no hesitation after that. I picked up a dagger and ended it swiftly.

"Dump his body where his master can have a wonderful view of it."I said and smirked cleaning the blood splashed on my face then I took a cigarette lit it take the puff gently.

The room went still, the message delivered loud and clear without the need for further cruelty. It was the best death I've given to anyone just a little torture no much pain. I guess I was too eager to snap off his head that I couldn't give him the full package of what I have for him.

I straightened, wiping my hands slowly, my breathing finally even. At least he only went through ten hours. It could have been much worse. But this would be enough. Drake would hear about it soon, and when he did, fury would consume him. That was exactly what I wanted. A warning wrapped in finality. This is one of his best hit men lying dead in my territory with his corpse having a full story to tell.

The guards bowed again as I turned and walked out, leaving the dungeon behind. With each step away, the weight on my chest eased slightly.

I guess I felt better now, and without another word, I left the dungeon puffing out smoke.