Kian had played the game long enough to recognize when he was being led into a trap.
Mercer's message had been calculated, strategic—an invitation disguised as an opportunity.
But Kian wasn't just walking into this meeting.
He was walking in with his eyes open.
And this time?
He wasn't just going to play Mercer's game.
He was going to flip the board entirely.
---
The meeting was scheduled for 9 AM sharp.
By the time Kian stepped into Mercer's office, the scent of expensive cologne and power plays hung thick in the air.
Mercer was seated behind his sleek, glass desk, his expression unreadable, but Kian could see the amusement flickering behind his sharp gaze.
Like he already knew Kian would come.
Like he had been waiting for this moment.
Kian didn't hesitate. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, but he didn't sit.
Didn't give Mercer the satisfaction of controlling the conversation.
