~Reo’s~

"I made you, Reo. And I can end you.”

Marcus Lane’s voice scrapes through the silence like gravel on glass. He’s slouched in his hospital bed with wires taped to his chest and his fingers trembling around the oxygen monitor. But his eyes, those same eyes that used to command boardrooms, still burn with that sick hunger for control.

Reo doesn’t flinch.

He just stands near the foot of the bed, coat still on, because he doesn’t intend to stay long. The stench of drugs and drips wraps around him like ghosts. So many ghosts.

“Call me out here this late just to bluff?” Reo mutters. “You’re really scraping...