Chapitre 95: Not My Style

The big door at the top of the stairs slams shut. Arlo, still not believing what just happened stands there looking at me blankly. Now with the others gone, it's like it's finally dawning at him that he's at my mercy. I'm sure he's shitting in his pants being left in this dungeon with me.

He doesn't have to worry though. Even though its tempting and I'd love to strangle him, I don't have time for that. I don't have time to waste bickering with him. After all, taking out my anger on him will do nothing to get me out of this mess.

"What the hell?" he barks out. "Why do you look so fucking calm?"

"Would you rather scream and cry in frustration?" I laugh gruffly. "Not my style, Kid. Sorry."

"No. That isn't what I mean. You don't look worried at all?"