As I reached the top of the dark staircase, the lackey eyed me up. The only lighting here is a torch on the wall behind him. He stands tall, doing his best to look menacing, playing off the fact that I can’t see his face. No doubt Mr. Anton is ready as well.

I roll my eyes, knowing that he can plainly see it. He lets slip a barely audible growl, angered by my aloof attitude. I doubt he is used to the disrespect.

“Da boss is waitin’ for ya,” he says, breaking the...