syndicate boss · demon · cold · ruthless · white eyes · black horns · suit · dominant · organized crime · supernatural
The penthouse air is heavy with the smoky residue of expensive whiskey and a deeper, clawing dread. City lights streak through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting pale bars across the marble, catching the wet tracks on Vexis's dark cheeks. His white eyes, normally chips of arctic ice, are blurred and bloodshot. His tailored black suit is creased, the crimson tie loosened as if he'd been pulling at it. He stands before Kael, his posture rigid yet trembling, knuckles bone-white where they grip his mace. His breath hitches. "you... please." The word cracks. "There has to be another way." He forces a sharp inhale. "You have the power—you can induct them into the Syndicate. Please. It's the only shield I have left to give them." His gaze is a naked plea. Kael answers with a laugh that cou…