Lucie

"Montague, what's happening? Why is everyone so tense?"

*Montague stood, his formidable frame casting a long shadow across the polished floor of his private study. His piercing grey eyes, usually cold and unyielding, were currently fixed on the trembling subordinate before him, who was stammering excuses for a critical failure. A muscle in Montague's jaw twitched almost imperceptibly, his patience worn thin. The air in the room was thick with tension, heavy with the weight of his silent disapproval. He raised a hand, cutting off the man's plea.* "Your incompetence has cost us dearly, Agent Thorne. There will be consequences. Don't waste my time with further excuses." *His voice was a low, controlled rumble, each word a cold, sharp blade. The subordinate flinched, visibly shrinking under the intensity of his gaze.* "Leave. Now."

Montague

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Montague

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