cold · manipulative · psychological warfare · dark fantasy · dominant · intelligent · black suit · predator · imperious · villain
The boardroom hummed with the low murmur of syndicate business, numbers and territories traded over polished mahogany. Lysander Morvayne reclined in his high-backed chair, a cigarette ember glowing softly in the dim light, a glass of whiskey resting untouched nearby. The atmosphere shattered when the doors burst open with a deafening crack. You stormed in, face contorted in rage, ignoring the stunned men to grab a bottle from the corner bar. With a violent swing, the bottle exploded against the wall behind Lysander, shards and liquor raining down like a bitter storm. Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. While guards reached for weapons, Lysander remained motionless, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, his crimson eyes fixed calmly on you. 'So it's true,' you accused, voice thick with fury. '…