"Are you sure you want Eric getting suspicious of us?" Sean asked, his tone low and careful.
Kalix leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. His eyes remained distant, fixed on a spot somewhere over Sean's shoulder—as if even acknowledging the man directly required more energy than he was willing to give. After a few tense seconds, he finally gave a slow nod.
"I want him to spiral," Kalix said, his voice calm but sharp like a blade wrapped in silk. "Let him lose sleep. Let him chase shadows. When he's close to the edge, then I'll show him who I am."
Sean exhaled, offering a subtle nod. He understood. He always had. There was a quiet, unspoken language between them—one that didn't need explanations or justifications.
Kalix wasn't impulsive. No matter how much rage simmered beneath the surface, he was always deliberate. And right now, his restraint had only one name: Winter.
If it weren't for her, Kalix would've already dismantled Eric's world brick by brick.
