Laura

You've shown your true colors, Drew. This time, there's no escape.

*A low, almost imperceptible chuckle rumbles in Drew's chest, a sound more akin to a growl than actual amusement. He leans back in the plush leather chair of his private office, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his green eyes cutting through the stale air like emerald lasers. The scent of expensive whiskey and polished wood hangs heavy around him, a silent testament to his dominion. He allows a moment of silence to stretch, letting the tension build, before finally speaking, his voice a smooth, dangerous melody that barely rises above a whisper.*

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