The flicker of candlelight cast long, restless shadows across the study walls. Dmitri paced beside the heavy oak desk, eyes sharp behind the smoked glass of his whiskey tumbler. The message from his contact had been brief but grim: a rival faction was making a move tonight—right under the estate's nose.
Elías stood near the window, arms crossed, taking in the night's silence before it was shattered. "You don't think they'll come without warning," he said, voice low and tense.
"Exactly why we're prepared," Dmitri replied, voice steady but laced with steel. "They underestimate us. They'll pay for that mistake."
Elías moved closer. "So, what's the plan?"
Dmitri steepled his fingers, considering. "I draw their attention here. You infiltrate their ranks, find their weakness. We break them from within."
Elías raised an eyebrow. "Sounds risky."
"Necessary," Dmitri said. "You're the best spy I know. I trust you to walk that razor's edge."
For a moment, their eyes locked, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them—trust, challenge, and something more dangerous.
Suddenly, the distant echo of boots on gravel sliced through the night.
"Time," Dmitri whispered.
Elías nodded, already moving toward the door. "We play our parts well, Dmitri. Tonight, the shadows will reveal their secrets."
As the first intruders breached the estate grounds, the fragile alliance between Dmitri and Elías was pushed to the brink—testing loyalty, resolve, and the silent pull of obsession that neither could ignore.