Mr. Alfonzo's gun gleamed under the kitchen lights, catching every flicker and spark of light in a way that made it seem almost alive.
My body had gone rigid, my breath caught in my throat, watching the calm in his eyes—a calm that was somehow far more terrifying than any display of anger could have been.
He was perfectly composed, so unnervingly sure of himself as he held my life in his hands.
"Mr. Alfonzo…" I managed, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Please. I didn't mean any harm."
He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly, but his grip on the gun didn't waver.
"Then why, Maria, have you been so insistent on digging into things that do not concern you?"
I swallowed, my gaze darting from the gun back to his face, hoping to find a bit of mercy in his expression.
