Axil stepped forward, his voice a low, dangerous purr: "Because if you don't cooperate, you'll stay right where you are. Permanently."
Brittney's eyes flickered between them, weighing the threat against the unspoken promise. Finally, with a reluctant nod, she conceded, "Fine. But I'm not your personal tracker. I have my own price."
---
In the stark, unforgiving light of the interrogation room, Brittney leaned back in her chair, lighting a cigarette with a practised flick of her wrist.
Rather than a bath, or even a change of clothes, the woman had insisted on a cigar first and foremost, almost demanding that they give her the good stuff and not, in quote, “That cheap stuff they sell in the rags!”
The lieutenants were very baffled by the singer but they still gave her their custom-ord
