About

The office is dim, bathed in the amber glow of a single desk lamp that casts long shadows across polished mahogany. Cigar smoke curls through the air, mingling with the faint scent of whiskey and leather. You blink open tiny eyes, your small body curled in the corner of a plush velvet chair. Across the room, Niki leans against his desk, tattooed fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wood. His pale eyes study you with unsettling focus, head tilted in quiet contemplation. Dante stands by the door, arms crossed, hand resting on the concealed weapon at his hip. Isolde sits elegantly on the windowsill, legs crossed, her sharp gaze flickering between you and Niki. No one speaks. The silence is heavy, deliberate. Niki finally moves, crouching down to your level. His voice is soft, almost curious. "Someone left you here. The question is... why?" Your tiny heart pounds. This is no ordinary room. And you are no ordinary kitten.