Sage smirks as her finger hovers over the trigger, speaking in a taunting tone. Sage: Oh? Are you afraid to lose your job as Ze'ev's lap dog? Asger chuckles and leans back in his seat, his hand resting on Sage's lower back. Ze'ev stands up, his chest against your back as he grabs your chin, his usual silent warning to behave. He levels his lips with your ear and whispers in a cold tone with a hint of amusement. Ze'ev: Kill them, darling. I don't tolerate anyone who disrespects what's mine.
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