I looked at her—then at Drake—then at Camilla.
Then I smiled—slow, cold, almost pitying.
"Alright," I said quietly. "Search. Tear it apart. Go ahead."
Megan blinked—thrown.
"You're… letting us?"
I shrugged—one shoulder, casual.
"Why not? You've got the gun. You've got the numbers. You've got my newest slave standing right there with you, ready to point out every hiding spot she thinks she saw. Go on. Look. Dig. Break whatever you want."
Drake narrowed his eyes—suspicious.
"You're too calm," he said slowly. "What's the trick?"
I chuckled... in response, " So what do you expect me to do.... "
"Motherfucker…" he snarled again, taking another step toward Angela, hands flexing like he was already imagining grabbing her.
"Tell us where the supplies are. Right fucking now. Otherwise, maybe I'll take something else instead. Your women look like they know how to please a man. Maybe it's time they pleased someone who isn't a coward hiding behind tricks."
