Clad in her stilettos and leather jacket above a cropped top, Vanity firmly held her fears and crossed her legs sassily in front of Travis— who had surrendered his gun already, now sitting beside the girl in all her glory.
On the other hand, Travis supported a straight look, his face was emotionless and unrelenting, not even a drop of guilt after killing one of the men he's working with— George, that one stubborn pawn who refused to obey simple orders not to lay a hand on Rion Nathan Maestra.
“You've warned George not to hurt the boy, multiple times. It's my job to make sure your wishes are satisfied and your commands are fulfilled. I apologize for the rash act, Miss Vanity, but as your uncle's direct spawn, I have responsibilities above all to keep his trust,” Travis explained, bowing
