Seraphine slowly raised her hands, her movements calm, controlled, every inch of her body language screaming surrender even though her mind was still running at full speed, calculating, adjusting, refusing to slow down despite the gun aimed straight at her.
Then she turned to face him. "Did you bring the tampons?" she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips like she was brushing off the entire situation, like this was still part of some twisted dinner conversation instead of the moment everything could fall apart.
Santiago didn't smile back. The warmth he had worn earlier was gone completely, stripped away to reveal something colder, something that made the air around them feel tighter.
"I never thought the FBI would send someone like you," he said, his voice low, steady, but edged with something darker. "So tell me… how did you pull it off?"
