Leonhardt didn't flinch.
He stood in the haze, letting the smoke curl around him like lazy ghosts.
"She tried," he said, brushing off his sleeve. "But she's not the threat she thinks she is. Pretty, though. I can see why you keep her around."
Enzo chuckled. "I don't keep anyone around, Leonhardt. If she's still breathing, it's because she knows her place."
Leonhardt tilted his head. "You sure that's not just what you tell yourself?"
A flicker. Just for a heartbeat, something in Enzo's gaze tightened. Then it was gone—replaced by a smirk that was all teeth.
"Let me guess," he said, "you're here to negotiate again. Ask for another favour. Or maybe trade something—information, blood, that smug monster pride you wear like a crown."
Leonhardt didn't take the bait.
He stepped forward just once. "I'm here to talk about the one who gave you the job."
