The price of forgiveness

The early morning sun peeked through the curtains of the quaint café, casting a warm glow on the small wooden table where Damon, Ryke, and Scarlett sat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, intermingling with the tantalizing scent of breakfast delicacies. Damon, exuding an air of calculated composure, sat across from Ryke and Scarlett, his piercing gaze locked onto Ryke's face. There was a palpable tension in the air, heavy with the weight of their conflicting desires and the knowledge that the next few moments would shape their fates. A waitress approached their table, a smile playing on her lips as she greeted them. The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmurs of conversation formed the backdrop to their impending negotiation. "Good morning. What can I get you all today?" the waitress asked, her voice a pleasant melody amidst the brewing storm. Ryke's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He turned to Damon, his voice tinged with anger, "What will