Karl sat stiffly in the backseat of the sleek, black car, his spine ramrod straight despite the plush leather cushions beneath him.
The suppressor clamp around his neck was a cold, humming weight; a constant, low buzz that kept his Core locked down, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat he no longer controlled.
They had put it around his neck when they came to get him from the room minutes ago. He had no idea what was going on, but like all the events that surrounded the past weeks, he knew this couldn't be good.
Every breath he took felt boxed in, shallow. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, his fingers white at the knuckles.
Beside him, Sir Gordon sat with the ease of a man used to owning rooms without saying a word. The deep blue coat draped over his shoulders shimmered faintly in the dim light filtering through the tinted windows, the fabric rich, like everything else about him. His presence filled the space: calm, commanding, and cold.
