Cherry remained motionless for a few seconds after Damon's comment, her gaze still heavy with an unstable mixture of irritation, wounded pride, and something harder to identify—perhaps frustration at having completely lost control of the situation that, until then, she had seemed to have carefully mastered. The invisible pressure still hung in the air, enveloping everything like an invisible hand holding the world in place, constantly reminding her who had taken command within.
She breathed with controlled difficulty, her eyes fixed on him, and then spoke, this time without shouting, but with a firmness that attempted to recover some of her lost authority.
"...let me go," she said, her voice lower, but still heavy with tension. "I'll talk."
Damon observed her for a brief moment, as if evaluating not only the words, but the real weight behind them, trying to gauge how much of it was cooperation… or just another attempt to regain an advantage.
And then—
