Hannah stared at the man sitting opposite her, his figure relaxed at the far end of the long table, and she could not stop the faint trace of ridicule from seeping into her gaze.
The air between them smelled faintly of stale alcohol and rusted metal, a suffocating mix that clung to her senses.
"So it's easy for you to talk," she said, her lips curving into a thin smile that did not reach her eyes.
"That's because you don't know the reality I'm facing."
Her fingers brushed against the cold tabletop, and a chill crept up her spine as she continued, her voice low and edged with restraint.
"If I get caught, there's a very real chance I won't even live long enough to see that beautiful future you're so confidently painting."
The man across from her looked to be in his mid-twenties.
His face was undeniably charming, not breathtaking but handsome enough to draw attention without effort.
Even Hannah, wary as she was, felt the pull of his appearance.
