The master bedroom was a cavernous space, draped in heavy, midnight-blue silk and lit only by the soft, ambient glow of the wall-mounted reading lights. Malcolm sat propped up against the massive, upholstered headboard, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through the latest quarterly performance metrics for Deviloy Tech. The glow of the tablet illuminated the sharp, tired angles of his face, casting long shadows across the room. He was trying to lose himself in the familiar, cold comfort of business logistics, desperate to drown out the suffocating reality of his situation.
The heavy door creaked open, breaking the silence. Malcolm didn't look up immediately, assuming it was one of the security guards, but the air in the room shifted instantly. The heavy, pressurized atmosphere that always accompanied the Enigma flowed in, thick and unmistakable.
He looked up, and his breath hitched.
