Magnus sat in his hotel room, the dim light of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The events of the day had been taxing, and while his face remained composed, his mind churned with thoughts about the future. He had just poured himself a glass of whiskey when the door opened without a knock. Fergus and Regan walked in, their expressions serious.
Magnus leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You two don't believe in knocking anymore?" he asked dryly, raising an eyebrow.
Fergus smirked but didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to the couch and sat down. Regan followed, his face tight with concern.
"We've got news," Fergus said, cutting straight to the point. "The guard who kidnapped Colin has spilled everything."
Magnus raised his glass to his lips but paused, his interest piqued. "Go on."