The woman spoke without letting the moment pass, her voice low beneath the half-mask, but carrying easily through the rain.
"If you so much as twitch, I will put a special superhuman round right through your skull. So unless you want to gamble whether you're faster than this trigger, drop your weapon… slow."
Don frowned behind the balaclava. The villa alarms still wailed in the background, layered electronic shrieks that could be heard through the storm, while distant footsteps and barking dogs drew steadily closer through the undergrowth.
He had no clean options. The pistol never wavered; the woman's grip looked absolute, finger resting light against the trigger in the manner of someone who had already decided the outcome.
He obliged.
He lowered his suppressed by a few degrees until the muzzle pointed at the muddy earth. "Who are you?" he asked, voice even.
