"Where is she?"

Drake scanned the surroundings, noting that there was nowhere to escape.

Peter replied, "She's still in there. It's been five minutes, and she hasn't come out yet."

"Check," Drake ordered.

"Yes, sir." Peter banged on the restroom door, his voice harsh. "Open the door."

There was no response.

"Mr. Lowe is here, and there is no escape. Open the damn door!" Peter's voice grew increasingly agitated, but there was still no response from inside.

He looked back at Drake, confused. "Could it be that she passed out again?"

Drake wasn't a man known for patience. With a swift motion, he pulled a gun from his waist and fired at the lock. The door splintered with a loud crack, and he kicked it open. "Move," he barked.

by the sink, drying her hands

intrusion, she huffed, "Mr. Lowe,

sullenly looked back at Peter, who shifted

you like

and with Drake having fired his gun, Debra should have heard

place is tiny. Where exactly do you think I could

face flushed with embarrassment. "You could've

not an animal. Why should I respond to

"You..." Peter spluttered.

"Enough!" Drake barked.

"I don't like it when people push me. One more stunt, and I'll throw you

QUMS

that I'm not one of your women. I expect basic respect

you might as

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