"Aveline Laurent, if you don't bring the pilot back, I swear, you will drop dead before me." Holding a handgun, Theodore threatened Aveline at the hangar.
Aveline stepped forward, unruffled, and said, "Go ahead."
Theodore's eyes flicked to Ezra for a fraction of a second. Ezra's face did not move; there wasn't even a change in his expression.
Theodore was alarmed. How could they be so calm and bold? He slapped at the bullet magazine, checked the rounds, then froze. The magazine was empty.
How?
'Clink… clink… clink…'
He suddenly heard the sound of small metal falling to the ground. He turned to Ezra and watched him let the bullets fall at his boots.
"Motherf...," Theodore cursed when he recalled security checking his gun and arms licence in the name of safety protocol.
His blood roared in his veins. His limbs itched to lunge over Aveline. He wanted to rip her apart, hold her hostage until he left the country, and slit her throat.
