The air still carried a faint scent of disinfectant, mingled with the chill from the broken windows, lingering in the quiet office.
Bruce stood by the window, his eyes slightly lowered, tapping the glass gently with his fingertips. Marissa sat half-crouching on the floor, a wound on her nose still bleeding. She looked utterly disheveled, tears streaming down her cheeks, yet her eyes stubbornly fixed on him.
To be honest, this woman wasn’t exactly fragile. She possessed the sharpness and resilience of someone who had undergone formal training. If it were anyone else, they might have held out longer. But in front of Bruce, her strength and skills were simply no match.
It was a one-sided confrontation.
In the end, after a brutal beating and mental exhaustion, she reluctantly revealed ever
