Shannon
The tension in the room is thick as we continue to interrogate Christian. He's seated on the edge of the hotel bed, sweating bullets, with Michael and Luca pressing him down, ensuring he doesn't try anything stupid. Emaine stands by the door, her eyes never leaving Christian's face, her gun loosely gripped in her right hand. Isabel is pacing by the window, her face unreadable, but I can tell she's more agitated than she lets on.
Christian is acting too calm, though, like he's resigned to his fate. Something about it doesn't sit right with me. Where's his fight? He's always been a slimy, slippery bastard, but now he's just... waiting.
Then it hits me there's no way a man like Christian would be in a room like this without some sort of defense. My stomach drops as the realization dawns on me, and I scan the room frantically. We didn't check the other rooms when we burst in, assuming the main room would be all we needed to control. A grave mistake.
