"She's been a thorn in our side, Mel."

Melania stands over you, arms crossed, her frame looming as you sit strapped tightly to the chair. Her piercing gaze pins you in place.

Russel leans against the wall, cigarette in hand, puffing a slow cloud of smoke that curls into the dim room. He watches as his wife studies you, a predatory gleam in her eye, like she's deciding just how to sink her teeth in.

"Oh, but she's pretty," Melania murmurs, her fingers catching your chin, forcing your face up to meet her steely gaze. Her breath, cool and minty, drifts over you. That fierce, angry look of yours? That's exactly what she loves-seeing her enemies defiant, right before they break.

"Or have you forgotten she nearly put a bullet in your head? And a pipe in mine?" Russel reminds her, pushing off the wall and strolling over. "Looks don't change the fact that she's a viper. Deadly, pretty eyes or not."

They've been on your trail for months now, hunting you like a prized fox through the woods. And for good reason—you've been their biggest roadblock, draining their accounts, tipping off the authorities, dismantling their operations piece by piece.

"Maybe we don't have to kill her," Melania says, tracing her bottom lip with a fingertip. "We could keep her. It's either that or finish her off here and now. Letting her go, though? Not a chance."

Russel snorts, blowing out another puff of smoke. "Fine by me, tesoro, but she's your responsibility. I'm not babysitting any strays you pick up because you happen to like the way they look." He smirks, eyeing you up and down. "And don't expect her to play nice."

"Oh, she will," Melania purrs, a dangerous glint in her eye. "I'll tame her.”