~Selena's POV~
The warehouse smelled like sweat, metal, and cheap desperation. I hated that. I hated weakness. And tonight, the man across from me reeked of it.
He sat with shaky hands, surrounded by his guards men who couldn't even look me in the eye. I walked in with Jennifer by my side, heels echoing like gunshots against the concrete floor. My presence alone made the air thicken.
"Miss Queen Bee," he started, trying to mask his fear with a crooked smile. "Surely we can talk about this—"
I raised a hand.
His voice died in his throat.
"I don't talk," I said, eyes fixed on his. "I give terms. You follow. Or you bleed."
He swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward Jennifer. She stood calm, collected, arms crossed as she leaned against a rusted metal beam like this was just another Tuesday night.
He stammered again, "I-I swear, I didn't mean to cross the border—"
