Everyone in the room tensed up. Daxter's men instinctively prepared themselves, weapons raised, their eyes wild as they searched for the direction of the bullet, but not one of them saw the shooter. There was no gunshot. Silence. Deadly.
Lucas stared straight at Daxter, his eyes darkening. This time, there was no faint smile. No trace of friendliness. All that remained was cold, frozen like death itself.
"Who gave you the order?" he asked, his voice low, deep, slicing through the air like a knife. "And what do you all want from me?"
Daxter fell silent. For the first time, his confident expression wavered. He looked into Lucas's eyes and frowned.
That gaze was different. The man standing before him had eyes sharp and piercing, like a hawk watching its prey from above. But there was something even more terrifying an invisible force that made the hair on his arms stand. This wasn't the Lucas he knew.
