"About me? Is there any problem with me, General?" Rex asked, his voice feigning innocence, though a chill crept down his spine. Silas's demeanor shifted, the atmosphere in the room thickening as he pondered how best to explain the gravity of the situation.
Silas fiddled with the pen, its smooth surface gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights. "You see... there's a particular law in this city, one that must be heeded, no matter how evil it sounds." His tone was grave, the seriousness of his words wrapping around Rex like a suffocating shroud.
Rex swallowed hard, his heart racing. "Evil law? What does that have to do with me?" The unease in his gut intensified, and he instinctively took a step back.
With a flick of his wrist, Silas sent the pen hurtling towards Rex, who instinctively raised his hands and caught it mid-air. The moment felt suspended in time, the pen resting in his palm a small victory against the encroaching dread.
