Max, his eyes wide with concern, leaned forward in his chair, his voice edged with worry. "Where's Lolita?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on Admiral Cheng, who seemed composed holding a cigar in his hand.
"In our custody," Admiral Cheng replied, his voice carrying a weight of authority.
He paused for a moment, the room dimly lit, the faint glow of his cigar illuminating his stern face. "We are yet to decide what to do with her."
Max's brows furrowed with concern. "Are you going to put her on trial or something?" he asked, his curiosity mingled with a touch of fear.
"I believe there is a possibility," the admiral responded cryptically, his words hanging in the air like a looming storm.
"Why?" Max pressed further, his voice a little high tinged with desperation. Aaron shot him a cautionary glance, while Clara, graceful as ever, swung over to him, her words a mere whisper in his ear.
