Michael's throat felt like sandpaper as Brother North settled into the rusted metal chair across from him, the screech of metal against concrete echoing through the warehouse. "You know what the funny thing is?" North said, his voice carrying that unsettling conversational tone that made Michael's skin crawl. "I actually started to like you. The Consigliere with the quick mouth and wits." He leaned forward, studying Michael's face. "You remind me of an old friend of mine, young and too smart for his own good." "What happened to your friend?" Michael asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. North's expression darkened. "He got shot trying to negotiate with people who don't negotiate. That's the problem with smart guys like you—you think everything can be solved with words." "Sometimes it can," Michael said carefully. "Sometimes," North agreed. "But sometimes, people just need to understand that actions have consequences." He stood up and began pacing, his energy building. "Do

Michael's legs felt like jelly as he and Alexis walked out of the abandoned restaurant. The cool evening air hit his face, and he realized he'd been holding his breath for what felt like hours. Behind them, the sound of chairs scraping and voices faded into the distance."Jesus Christ," Michael muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe that actually worked."Alexis walked beside him, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement. She kept glancing back at the restaurant, as if expecting armed men to come running after them. "Your hands are shaking," she said, noticing his trembling fingers as he tried to light a cigarette."Yeah, well, I just negotiated with two gang leaders who could have killed us both," Michael said. "I'm allowed to shake a little."They walked in silence for a few blocks, both processing what had just happened. The street lamps cast long shadows, and every sound made Michael's head snap around. A car door slamming. A dog barking. The distant hu