"I wouldn't expect anything less. Trust isn't demanded, Draven—it's earned."
My pens lowered subtly, tension easing but not dissipating entirely. The next steps we took together would alter the fabric of events, perhaps irreversibly. It was a gamble, undeniably dangerous—but then, I had never shied from risks. Every great outcome demanded risk, precision, and strategy. And strategy was my domain.
He smiled wider. "It's not flattery, Draven. It's recognition."
Something about the way he said it, about the quiet sincerity in his voice, made me scrutinize him even more carefully. Kyrion's confidence, his unflappable poise—it wasn't merely arrogance or bravado. There was an underlying layer of truth there, one that I couldn't easily dismiss. He genuinely believed what he was saying. Recognition. Not praise, nor empty compliments. Recognition meant he saw something in me that mirrored his own values and ideals, a quality he felt resonated with his own principles.
