I was not happy. At all.
"Where is he?" I demanded, glaring daggers at Marco. My right
hand went down to my pistol, resting at the barrel, ready to pull the
trigger at anyone who decided to fuck with me.
After all, I was not angry. Oh no.
I was fucking pissed.
I wasn't having a bad day. Not even a bad week. Try a bad month.
Or, life.
The older man visibly shrunk under my gaze, before clearing his
throat. "Basement."