Her breath hitched. Her body tensed.
Her gaze darted to the far side of the room, where a presence had silently emerged—a man, draped in the kind of tailored suit that whispered of power and control. He leaned against the wall with effortless ease, arms crossed, a faint, knowing smile on his lips.
Esme's father.
The door clicked shut behind Esme, sealing her departure.
The woman's heart pounded as she turned to him. "What do you mean we didn't stop her?" she demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained frustration. "How could you just let her walk into that death trap again?"
The man sighed, tilting his head slightly, as if contemplating the weight of her words. Then, in a voice too calm for the gravity of the situation, he answered,
"She's our daughter, Gina. You know how she is." His lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes held something deeper. "That stubbornness of hers… she didn't get it from nowhere."
