The dim overhead light cast a harsh glare on Mr. Irons, bound and trembling in the metal chair. His wrists and ankles were tightly secured, the thin lines of rope biting into his skin. He squinted up at Juniper, eyes wide with fear, his mouth dry as he tried to speak.

Juniper leaned against the edge of a nearby table, watching him with the cold detachment of a predator assessing his prey. “You know why you’re here, Mr. Irons.”

Irons swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “FUCK... you. I don’t know anything about the murders.”

Juniper’s gaze didn’t waver. He slipped a gloved hand into his coat pocket, retrieving a small knife, the blade glinting menacingly in the low light. With a practiced, slow precision, he ran his thumb along the edge, as if testing its sharpness.

“You see, that’s where you’re mistaken,” Juniper said softly, his tone almost conversational. “You may not think you know anything, but everyone knows something useful to me. Sometimes, it just takes the right kind of motivation to bring it to the surface.”

Irons shook his head frantically, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “Please, I don’t have anything to tell you. I swear. I just run deliveries—I’m a small-timer. Just a nobody in this business.”

“Small-timer?” Juniper repeated, his voice laced with a sinister calm. He stepped closer, letting the blade trace an imaginary line along Irons’ jawline. “Yet somehow, your name comes up in connection with the murders of certain… ladies of the night. That’s a strange coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”

Irons whimpered, his eyes darting from the blade to Juniper’s unyielding gaze. “I don’t know anything about that! I was just running packages. No one told me anything about murders.”

Juniper sighed, as if disappointed. “Mr. Irons, let’s stop playing games. Someone’s been killing these women, someone who knows how to make it look like an accident, but not enough to fool me. So here’s the question: Who gave you your last few assignments?”

Irons swallowed hard, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond. “It—it was a man named… Peterson. He didn’t tell me anything, just gave me the package and said to deliver it. I don’t ask questions. It’s not my place.”

Juniper’s gaze hardened, and he applied a bit more pressure with the knife, watching as Irons winced. “Did Peterson mention anything about new players in the business? Unusual names, changes in routine?”

Irons shook his head, his face pale with fear. “No, nothing unusual. Just… strange rumors.”

Juniper’s brow lifted, his interest piqued. “Rumors? Go on.”

Irons hesitated, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for a way out. “People… people are saying there’s something out there,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “Something… not human. They’re calling it a monster.”

Juniper’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He stepped back, crossing his arms as he regarded Irons coldly. “A monster,” he repeated, his voice dripping with skepticism. “You think there’s some fairytale beast running around Emerald City, tearing people apart?”

Irons’ breathing grew more frantic. “You don’t understand. I’ve seen it… just once. This… thing, this shadow. It was watching me. It had these… these eyes—” His voice cracked, his terror spilling over. “Whatever it was, it’s no human.”

Juniper’s lips curved into a dark smile, the cold amusement in his gaze sending a chill down Irons’ spine. He leaned in close, his voice low and deadly. “Let me be very clear, Mr. Irons. The only monster you need to fear is standing right in front of you.”

Irons’ face went pale as Juniper continued, his voice calm but unyielding. “I’ve heard enough excuses and fairytales. I’m not interested in shadows or ghost stories. I want real information. If there’s anyone else out there targeting these women—anyone threatening my interests—you will tell me. Now.”

Irons’s breathing grew shallower, his panic overtaking him. “I swear, I don’t know anything more! I told you everything! Peterson… he’s the last one who gave me work. Please, please, that’s all I know!”

Juniper stared at him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing in contempt. “It seems you’re more useless than I thought.” He wiped the blade clean on a cloth and slipped it back into his coat. “Do yourself a favor, Irons. Start finding useful information, or the next time we meet, you’ll wish a shadow was the worst thing you had to fear.”

With one last look, Juniper turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the silence. Irons sagged in the chair, gasping for breath, while the realization of Juniper’s terrifying indifference settled heavily in the dim room.

In the quiet of the mafia’s headquarters, Juniper finally allowed himself a rare moment of reprieve. The interrogation had drained him, and he could feel the day’s weight settling onto his shoulders as he stepped into the private shower adjoining his office. Steam filled the tiled room, softening the sterile light and cloaking him in warmth as he peeled off his shirt and examined the network of scars that painted his skin.

Some were faded memories of old battles, while others were fresh, barely healed, etched into the skin with a ferocity that only his line of work could demand. Across his back, the scars wove into a sprawling orca tattoo, each mark becoming a dark line in the powerful creature’s form. The tattoo had once symbolized freedom, resilience—but it had evolved into something more: a testament to his survival.

He stood under the hot spray, letting the water wash away the remnants of the day and the tension coiled in his muscles. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to relax, even if just for these few fleeting minutes. The building was silent, his office shielded from the hum of activity beyond. Here, in the privacy of his own space, he could strip away the hardened mask of the executive and, for a moment, just be.

After a long shower, he stepped out, towel-drying his hair before donning his suit—a crisp, dark gray jacket and slacks, with a perfectly pressed shirt and a black tie that reflected the power he wielded. Finally, he reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out something that always made him smile: a pair of vampire bunny slippers, complete with tiny red fangs. They were a gift from years ago, a reminder of quieter times, and he wore them with a mix of humor and defiance, a small comfort in a life shaped by ruthlessness.

Suit complete, slippers on, Juniper poured himself a cup of rich, dark coffee from the machine nestled in the corner of his office. The aroma filled the room, bringing a calmness he rarely felt elsewhere. He took a slow sip, savoring the warmth, before settling into his leather armchair and propping his feet up on the desk, the vampire slippers looking out of place yet perfectly at home.

With a sigh, he opened his laptop and began going over the day’s financials. Several payments to trusted assassins were overdue, and he couldn’t afford any ruffled feathers. He adjusted a few transfers, sending funds to settle his debts with his most dangerous associates, ensuring their loyalty for a while longer. Once satisfied, he turned to the usual round of paperwork—permits, laundering requests, and, of course, taxes. Even in his line of work, some things couldn’t be avoided.

As he worked, he glanced occasionally around the office, letting the comfort of his sanctuary settle over him. This room was as much a fortress as it was a workplace. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, dotted with shelves full of books he’d never had time to read, and a well-stocked liquor cabinet sat in the corner, should he need it. In one glass case, a set of antique knives gleamed—a subtle reminder of the skills that had gotten him this far.

The world outside could be ruthless, brutal, even monstrous, but here, in the quiet of his office, with his vampire bunny slippers and his strong coffee, he felt a semblance of peace. This was his sanctuary, his place to unwind and find balance before slipping back into the role the world demanded of him.

Here, he was Juniper—the man, the father, not just the mafia executive. And for tonight, that was enough.

Juniper was halfway through his coffee, savoring the rare quiet in his office, when a sharp knock shattered the silence. Before he could respond, the door swung open, and in strutted Dr. Penny Vice, her heels clicking confidently on the hardwood floor. She was dressed in her usual lab coat, though it hung slightly askew, revealing a red blouse underneath. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in the sight of him, suited up with his vampire bunny slippers propped on the desk.

“Well, well, look at you,” she teased, her voice carrying that playful edge he’d come to recognize. “Mr. Mafia Executive himself, decked out in bunny slippers. I think you’ve finally outdone yourself, Juniper.”

He didn’t flinch, simply raising an eyebrow as he took another slow sip of his coffee. “Can’t a man enjoy some comfort in his own office?”

She smirked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “Not when he looks that ridiculous. I think I just lost ten percent of my respect for you.”

Juniper leaned back, crossing his arms in return. “I didn’t realize you had that much respect to lose, Penny.”

She chuckled, closing the door behind her and sauntering over to his desk. “Touché.” Her gaze lingered on the bunny slippers, then traveled up to meet his amused expression. “I have to admit, I never expected the ruthless Juniper to have such a soft spot for… vampire bunnies?”

“They’re a classic,” he replied, deadpan. “You’re just jealous.”

She rolled her eyes, walking around the desk and settling on the edge of it, her hip brushing against his arm. “Please. I don’t do jealous, darling. But I am curious.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned in, her face inches from his. “You look so serious all the time. It’s nice to see you… relaxed.”

Juniper arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “Relaxed? I was until you barged in.”

Penny leaned closer, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “You know, I could help you unwind even more,” she murmured, a flirty undertone in her voice.

He chuckled, setting his coffee mug down. “Is that why you’re here? To offer your… professional services?”

She grinned, her fingers brushing along the line of his jaw. “Maybe. I figured you could use a little company after a long day of, well… whatever it is you do with those adorable slippers on.”

Juniper glanced down at his slippers, shaking his head with a smile. “Careful, or I might make you a pair. Think you could handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle plenty,” she replied, leaning in so her lips were just a breath away from his. “Though I think you already know that.”

Before he could respond, she closed the distance, pressing a kiss to his cheek that lingered just a moment too long. She pulled back with a sly smile, straightening her coat and giving him a playful wink.

“Next time, maybe warn me before you go full adorable mafia boss,” she teased, heading for the door. “You’re making it hard for me to take you seriously.”

Juniper just laughed, watching her with a hint of warmth in his gaze. “Maybe you’re just afraid to admit you like it.”

She paused in the doorway, shooting him a final, playful look over her shoulder. “Don’t get cocky, Juniper. But keep the slippers—I might just get used to seeing them.”

With a flash of her mischievous smile, she slipped out of the room, leaving Juniper chuckling to himself. The peace had been interrupted, but as he sipped his coffee

Juniper watched as Penny strutted down the dimly lit hallway, her heels clicking against the polished floor. He downed the rest of his coffee and followed her, catching up just as she reached the lab. She glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Couldn’t stay away?” she teased, but her gaze shifted as she saw the serious look in his eyes. “Or is this business?”

“Business,” Juniper replied, his tone low. “I need the autopsy results on those murders. The ones with the, uh… unusual injuries.”

She gave him a playful smirk but held the door open, gesturing him inside. “Alright, Mr. Mafia Executive, come take a look at my latest findings.”

Juniper followed her into the sterile, lit lab. The faint smell of disinfectant mixed with the metallic tang of cold storage. Penny led him to a workstation, pulling up the file on her screen and flipping through images of the latest victim—a woman in her mid-twenties with deep lacerations across her torso and limbs. Juniper scanned the photographs, frowning as Penny zoomed in on one specific wound.

“This,” she said, her voice alight with fascination, “is where it gets interesting.”

The close-up revealed something lodged in the torn flesh—a claw, long and sharp, embedded deep within the tissue. But unlike any animal claw he’d seen, this one appeared to be made entirely of human bone, each joint and curve twisted in a way that defied normal anatomy.

“fuck… is that?” Juniper murmured, his eyes narrowing.

Penny grinned, a glint of excitement in her gaze. “A masterpiece, isn’t it? Looks like someone—or something—crafted this. I mean, we’re talking about bone structure that shouldn’t even be possible in a human. It’s almost as if this claw… grew from the body.”

Juniper felt a shiver run down his spine. “You’re saying it’s human?”

“Precisely,” she said, sounding almost delighted. “It’s rare to find anything this unique. It’s as if someone was experimenting with human anatomy, trying to make a weapon out of it.”

Juniper shook his head, unable to match her excitement. “This isn’t fascinating, Penny. It’s disturbing. Whatever did this… it’s not just a person. Or at least, not entirely.”

She shrugged, her gaze lingering on the image as if savoring a fine piece of art. “All I’m saying is, it’s a one-of-a-kind find. Whoever’s behind these murders isn’t your average thug with a grudge. We’re talking something out of a horror novel.”

Juniper clenched his jaw, his mind racing. He’d dealt with countless criminals, but nothing had ever hinted at something like this. “I need to talk to someone who might know what’s going on,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“Oh? Going to consult one of your mystical contacts?” she asked, smirking. “I didn’t think you were one for legends.”

“This isn’t a legend,” he said, his tone dark. “If this is what it seems, then it’s a problem a lot bigger than some fantasy tale.” He exhaled, almost dreading his next steps. “There’s someone I need to talk to—Percy.”

Penny’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of surprise. “Percy? I thought you couldn’t stand that guy.”

“I can’t,” Juniper admitted, his voice tight. “But Percy’s been around longer than most of us. He knows things about… unusual cases.”

Penny’s curiosity was piqued, but she held her questions. “Well, if anyone can help you solve this little puzzle, it’s Percy. Just try not to strangle him.”

“Trust me, Fucking professional here.”