The air was too still.
Even before Dominic reached the end of the corridor, he knew something was off. Something in the silence told him that tonight wasn't just about negotiation. It would also be about survival.
His shoes made a sharp sound against the marble, steady and deliberate. The private suite loomed ahead with glass walls, gold handles, and an expensive disguise for a room meant to spill blood.
Six of his men followed behind him. They didn't speak. Even his men felt the shift in the air, and in that line, they knew that if things went wrong, they might not walk out together.
Dominic stopped at the door. His eyes scanned the frame, the hinges, and the faintest glint of something metallic tucked at the edge of the chandelier reflection. His eyes landed on a sniper's sight.
He didn't flinch.
He just adjusted his cuff, pushed the door open, and stepped in like he owned the damn place.
