On the other side stood two men, impeccably dressed to blend in with the occasion, their presence cold and efficient.
Between them was a small trolley, and atop it lay a large sack—the very thing they would use to transport Angel.
With swift precision, they carefully placed Angel inside, securing the sack tightly.
The next step was simple.
It was time to take her exactly where they needed her to be.
And nothing—not even Tryson—was going to stop them.
***
Tryson's sharp gaze flickered around the room, scanning every face, every corner, searching for any sign of Angel.
A growing unease settled in his chest, a sensation he couldn't quite shake off. It had been several minutes since she excused herself to the restroom, and yet, he hadn't heard from her since.
He clenched his jaw, silently berating himself for feeling so anxious, so possessive. She's fine. It's just a quick trip. That's what he kept telling himself.
