In the same room where she killed the previous prisoner, Luna was standing in front of a large mirror, admiring the way her black dress fit.
Her men had called her, informing her of Anton's capture, and how he managed to kill two of them. She wasn't sure why, but something about this man intrigued her.
She heard the large metal door open, the sound of boots thudding on the floor. Anton was shoved into the room, his face bruised, his clothes torn. He barely stood on his own, but his eyes were steady, locked on hers.
Luna raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You killed two of my most valued men. You've already confirmed your death sentence."
Anton didn't say a word. His bloodied face remained expressionless. Luna was impressed. Most would have started begging for their lives by now.
"Set him down," she commanded, and the guards forcibly brought Anton to his knees and stepped away from him.
