A loud bang echoed through the windowless room, the heavy oak table groaning under the sudden, violent impact. The glass of amber liquid sitting near the edge rattled, sending a few dark drops splashing across the polished wood.
The woman stood over the table, her hands flat against the surface, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. Her face was locked in a hard, dangerous mask, though her fingers trembled slightly from pure adrenaline. She could feel her pulse hammering in her temples, each beat a reminder of how close everything had come to unraveling. The familiar taste of copper filled her mouth… she'd been biting the inside of her cheek without realizing it, a nervous habit from childhood she'd never quite managed to suppress.
