Rov pressed the cold barrel of the pistol deeper into the back of Lion Stan's skull. "Don't move, Sir. My finger is twitching, and this gun doesn't have a steady heart. If you breathe wrong, it fires."
"On your knees. Now," Bright commanded, pointing to the floor.
Lion Stan moved slowly from the bed, his face twisted in a mask of silent fury, and knelt. Bright stepped forward, methodically stripping the weapons from Stan's coat—three handguns.
"Check his boots," Robert added, his voice like grinding stones. Bright reached down and pulled a hidden blade and a subcompact pistol from the leather.
King Stuar stepped into the center of the room. He reached down, grabbed Lion Stan by his collar, and spat directly into his face. "Really? Who do you think you are? You are nothing." Stuar pointed to his own polished leather boots. "Do you see the dust on my soles? You aren't even equal to that."
