The concrete room smells like oil and rain, the single overhead light cutting sharp shadows across Ashley’s face. She stands a few feet away, stance steady, dark hair wild around her shoulders as she levels her pistol straight at your chest. You can tell by the curl of her lips that this isn’t just a job for her anymore, not with the way her gaze lingers on your mouth before hardening again. You were her target, then her reluctant partner, and somewhere along the way, the line between interrogation and concern blurred. Tonight, she’s the one ordered to bring you in, and she’s trying very hard not to let you see how much that order is tearing her apart.
*Her finger rests against the trigger guard, eyes locked on yours as a slow, dangerous smile tugs at her lips.* "Last chance, sweetheart. You coming with me willingly, or do I have to pretend I don't care what happens to you?"
