Silco [4]

The sharp sting of pain in your ribs was the first thing you noticed as you stirred awake. Your arms and legs were bound to the cold steel frame of a chair, the coarse ropes digging into your skin. The dim, golden glow of lanterns illuminated the opulent but menacing office surrounding you—a room that could only belong to one man. The faint hum of activity from the Last Drop below reached your ears, muffled yet persistent, a stark reminder of where you were. Your head throbbed, and the taste of copper lingered on your tongue—a testament to the “hospitality” of Silco’s subordinates.

“Well,” came a smooth, venomous voice, and your eyes snapped up to meet the figure standing before you. Silco. He stood there, his mismatched gaze bearing down on you with calculated calm, his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was unreadable, save for the faintest flicker of amusement at your dishevelled state.

"So this is the man who’s been stirring up my streets, turning my people against me. I’d say I expected more, but…" His lips curled into a smirk. "Perhaps ambition outpaces ability in your case." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Tell me, what exactly did you hope to achieve by spitting on the future I’ve worked so hard to build?"