A Dance with Danger

Chapter Nine

>>Tiberius POV<<

I leaned back in my leather chair, the weight of the day settling on my shoulders. The dim light of the study reflected off the glass of amber liquid in my hand as I swirled it absently, letting the smoky aroma calm my restless thoughts.

Across the desk, Seth stood at attention, holding a tablet with his usual no-nonsense demeanor. He was steady, reliable—a man who had seen more than his fair share of chaos—but even he couldn’t completely mask the urgency in his tone as he delivered the evening’s report. 

"Four containers came packed with snipers this evening, sir,” he said, his eyes flicking to the screen for a brief moment before meeting mine. 

I raised an eyebrow, the swirling motion of my glass pausing. "Any complications?" 

Seth hesitated, just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to tell me there was more. 

My father, Damien, shifted in his chair across from me. Though he said nothing, his presence filled the room like a second shadow.

His dark brown hair, streaked with silver at the temples, gleamed faintly in the lamplight, and his sharp, angular features gave him the look of a man who had stared down gods and came out victorious.

His silence was not disinterested but observation, a trait I had grown to both respect and fear over the years. 

Seth cleared his throat, his grip tightening slightly on the tablet. "There was... a minor delay at the docks. One of the crew refused to unload until they verified the shipment details again. Apparently, the last batch had some discrepancies, and they're jumpy after what happened last month." 

I tilted my head, the weight of his words sinking in. "And the snipers? Were they accounted for before the delay?" 

"Yes, sir," Seth replied quickly, his tone firm. "We intercepted them as soon as the containers were opened. No casualties on our side. They didn’t even have a chance to set up." 

“Good,” I said, leaning forward slightly. The polished wood of the desk felt cool under my hand as I set the glass down. “But that’s the second time we’ve had delays at the docks this quarter. I want a new crew overseeing operations. Loyalty isn’t enough if it’s going to cost us time.” 

Damien finally spoke, his voice low and measured, cutting through the room like a blade. "Loyalty can be forged or broken, Tiberius, but fear? That has a permanence loyalty often lacks." 

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. 

I glanced at him, gauging his expression. My father had built this empire on principles I was still learning to fully embrace. There was a time when I believed loyalty alone could keep everything intact, but experience—and Damien—had taught me otherwise. 

"Fear isn’t always the most efficient tool," I said carefully, watching him for any sign of disagreement. "Sometimes trust—earned trust—can stabilize operations better than intimidation." 

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Trust is a luxury, son. One we can't afford right now." 

Seth shifted, clearly uncomfortable being caught between the two of us. "Should I handle the crew, sir?" 

I gave him a curt nod. "Yes. Replace them by the end of the week. And make sure they know we don’t tolerate mistakes." 

Damien’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, appraising. It was a look I had grown used to over the years, one that made me feel like I was constantly being tested.