A glass shattered against the far wall, fragments scattering across the floor as the man behind the desk seethed with barely contained fury. Papers fluttered to the ground, displaced by the force of his rage. Across from him, a younger man stood rigid, his head bowed slightly, his hands clasped behind his back in forced composure, the tension visible in the tight line of his shoulders.
"Which part of 'lay low' does he not understand?" the man roared, his voice echoing off the walls of his dimly lit office. His chest heaved with anger as he clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tight with frustration. Then, with a huff, he sank back into his chair, fingers gripping the armrests until his knuckles turned white.
