"Who?" Beron's voice came out in a dry, cracked rasp, his eyes wide with an unconvincing panic as he took another unsteady step back against the bumper of his transport. He shook his head violently, his face twisting into a desperate mask of absolute ignorance. "Who the hell is Jackline Monroe?! I don't know who the fuck you're talking about, Lukas! I've never heard that name in my life!"
Dahmer didn't even blink. He stood motionless in the cool mountain air, staring at Beron with a look of sickening contempt that stripped away every layer of the warlord's pathetic lie.
"Stop pretending, Beron," Dahmer said softly, his voice dropping into a thin cadence that vibrated through the quiet asphalt. "Why are you standing there denying your own mother? Is your pride so completely broken that you would disown the very woman who gave you life just to save your own skin today?"
