Can’t Win Me Back

Jameson cracked his knuckles as he instructed through clenched teeth, “Head back to the Millennium!”

A storm cloud hung over Jameson’s face as he entered the Millennium. Anyone could see his simmering rage.

“Carl,” Jameson barked, his voice laced with ice, “get Amber down here. Now.”

Carl scurried to obey, his heart hammering in his chest.

After more than ten minutes, Amber appeared in the basement, where the incompetent and traitorous were often dealt with.

A metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air as the door creaked open.

“Mr. Schmidt.” Amber bowed deeply. Despite her outward composure, her heart was beating wildly.

lounged on a maroon couch in the dim, oppressive light, swirling a glass of crimson

been charged with corruption, bribery, and sexual assault. He was apprehended by the police at the party organized by the Schmidt

to mask her fear as she replied softly, “Yes, it’s

and Jasper,” Jameson continued, his smile devoid of warmth, “unearthed a damning amount of evidence in record time. They struck

off, swirling the wine in his glass, his eyes locking onto Amber’s. “Tell me, Amber,” he said slowly, a

Amber like a second skin, slick with a cold

a hoarse whisper. “Ms. Alyssa and Mr. Jasper have always

exceptional talent, and they

know how to sway people. It wouldn’t be surprising if someone

sway people. I’m just uncertain if they’ve managed to win over someone under my nose, unbeknownst

sentence, something flashed

avoiding a direct hit to her head. However, the glass shattered at the tip