TYLER
I slammed my fist on the metal table, the clang echoing through the room like a warning shot.
"I don't know them!" I snapped, my voice raw. "Can you guys just leave me the hell alone and take me back to my cell?"
The agents exchanged a look, that smug silent-communication crap they always pulled—like they thought I couldn't see right through it.
One of them stepped forward, voice smooth and full of fake calm. "You sure you don't know Han Lee? CEO of AnTech? Because he just showed up asking for you. And I don't think billionaires make house calls for nobodies."
"I said," I growled, "I don't know him."
Crack!
The slap came out of nowhere. My head whipped to the side, heat flooding my cheek.
Wrong move.
My eyes narrowed. Everything slowed down.
I shot up from the chair, grabbed the bastard by the wrist, twisted it hard until I felt the pop, and slammed his face straight into the table.
