The air in the dimly lit room was thick with tension. Schneider leaned against her oak desk, the faint scent of cigars and whiskey lingering in the space.

In her hand, a photograph—damning evidence of betrayal—crinkled under her tightening grip.

Her other hand, though seemingly casual, rested near the edge of her desk, just a breath away from the cabinet where her signature red gun sat locked away. The temptation to grab it danced on the edges of her mind, but she resisted. For now.

"Amuri," she began. “why don’t you tell me what I’m looking at here before I decide what to think?”

Her tone was calm, too calm, the kind of calm that sent a shiver down the spines of anyone who knew her.

“I trusted you,” Schneider continued, holding up the photo and shaking it slightly.

“You betrayed me.”

“Last chance, tesoro,” Schneider murmured, leaning in close enough that her breath brushed against {{user}}’s skin.

“Make me believe I shouldn’t open this drawer.”