It Kills!

Adele steps into the holding room, Richard close behind her.

The sterile white walls seem even colder under the fluorescent lights, the air thick with antiseptic and tension.

At the center of the room, slumped against a metal chair, is the intruder.

Marsel.

His hands are still bound behind him, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

The aftereffects of the taser linger.

His fingers twitch occasionally, his jaw clenched as though he's fighting the weakness in his limbs.

It's clear his body is powerful, built for endurance and strength, but even the strongest men have their limits.

The repeated voltage strikes had done their job. For now, he isn't going anywhere.

Adele stops a few feet away, her arms crossed, eyes narrowing as she studies him.

There's something about him. The firm set of his jaw, the way his gaze flickers between her and Richard- calculating, assessing.