The man snapped the laptop shut with a sharp click, his face still blank as a mask, his eyes locked on Devon's. Without a word, he held out the sleek capsule case, the matte black surface cool and heavy as Devon took it, his fingers brushing the man's in a moment that sent a chill up his arm.
"You have 24 hours," the man said, his voice flat, like he was stating the weather. He stepped back slightly, his sneer fading into that cold, professional stare, like he'd delivered a package and was done.
He adjusted his suit cuff, a small move that said he didn't care about the storm he'd just started.
Devon's face twisted, a bone-chilling glare taking over his eyes burning with a rage that could melt steel. If looks could kill, the man would have dropped dead a dozen times over, his body crumpling right there in the hallway. Devon took a step closer, his breath hot and ragged, his muscles tight under his shirt, the fury boiling inside him like lava ready to erupt.
