Lucian loosened his tie as he breathed out heavily.
For some reason, he felt nauseous and suffocated. He gulped as the corners of his eyes reddened from the tightness in his chest. Struggling to remain composed, he reached for the teapot, opened the lid, and finished the remaining tea in one breath.
He leaned back and drew a deep breath, his eyes closed until his breathing stabilized.
The three men remained sprawled where they had fallen. As for the man seated across from him—Hector—his body had already slumped to the side. Blood had splattered across the corner, mixing with the trail crawling from Hector's temple and stretching across the floor.
When Lucian opened his eyes, he remembered Hector's last words before finally surrendering to his fate.
"Luciano, I am not the only one who has grown impatient," Hector had said, his shoulders sagging as he chuckled with his eyes lowered.
