The silence stretched for several heartbeats. Maxwell's refined composure flickered slightly, revealing something harder underneath. His four associates exchanged glances, hands still hovering near their weapons.
"Very well," Maxwell said finally. "Direct it is."
He walked back to his desk and pressed a button. The door opened, and five more men entered the room. Unlike the business-suited lieutenants, these newcomers radiated pure menace. Each moved with the controlled grace of professional killers.
"Allow me to properly introduce my inner circle," Maxwell said, his tone shifting from polite to commanding. "The Five Heavenly Kings of the Eastern Alliance."
The first man was built like a mountain, easily six and a half feet tall with arms like tree trunks. Scars crisscrossed his knuckles and forearms.
"Victor Zane, the Iron Fist King," Maxwell announced. "Undefeated in underground fighting circuits across three provinces."
