Amaya sat on the side chair of the couch, her arms crossed as she studied the three men in front of her. Just five minutes ago, they had been holding guns—powerful, dangerous men who commanded fear. But now, they sat there like schoolboys caught doing something wrong, their expressions carefully blank, trying to act innocent, as if they had never even seen a gun before.

The air in the room was heavy with tension. Amaya let the silence stretch for a moment before finally speaking. "So… start," she demanded, her voice firm.