The golden light of the late afternoon sun pierced through the window of Hunter's office, casting long, somber shadows across his face. His strong hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, his eyes locked on Amara who stood before him—calm on the surface, but simmering with fire beneath.

“You’ve crossed the line, Amara,” Hunter hissed, trying to stay composed. “Threatening me with a past you barely understand?”

Amara leaned forward and placed her phone on the desk. On the screen, an audio recording played: her father’s voice, followed by a younger, anxious Hunter.

"You can’t just walk away. They’ll kill you."

Click.

Amara stopped the recording. “This is enough...