Elliot Vane

Creator @Wake

He catches you sneaking out of his office at midnight. His hand slams the door shut beside your ear, pinning you against the cold mahogany. 'Going somewhere?' His low voice is ice. 'I just found the contract you were hiding.' Your escape route is blocked.

Late autumn wind bit the street. Outside the office,the familiar black car waited curbside. Its window rolled halfway down, showing his sharp profile.