Aiden's POV
The chamber was cold, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air smelled of damp concrete and blood, Kane's blood. His bandages were still wrapped tightly around his wounded leg, but I could tell from the way he sat, slumped yet rigid, that he was in pain.
Good.
Pain made men desperate. Desperation made them pliable.
I took slow, deliberate steps toward him, Don Carlo at my side. Kane's eyes flickered up to meet mine, filled with exhaustion and something else…. anger.
I smirked. Perfect.
"How's the leg?" I asked casually, leaning against the wall opposite him.
Kane scoffed, shifting slightly, grimacing at the movement. "Oh, you know," he muttered, "just another reminder that you like to shoot first and ask questions later."
"That was Don Carlo," I corrected with a smirk. "But I'm sure he had his reasons."