They all blocked the doorway, completely barring Calliope’s way out.
“You’re not leaving this room without my say-so,” Oliver drawled, swirling his whiskey with a lazy flick of his wrist. “And yet here you are, trying to defy me. Bold move.”
He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving her. “Don’t tell me you’re hoping Silas is going to burst in here and rescue you?”
He gave a dry chuckle. “He’s out of town on business. Even if he wanted to help, you think he could get past me?”
A burly guy by the door chimed in, “Don’t push your luck, sweetheart. Just sit tight and don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Sometimes, you know, being stubborn just means you’re the one getting hurt.”
Calliope shot Oliver a cool, almost amused glance. She let out a little laugh. “Mr. Myers, you really think I can’t get past your little welcoming committee?”
She eyed the guards blocking the exit. “You’re underestimating me. And you’re definitely underestimating your son’s taste.”
Then, before anyone could react, she tossed a handful of powder straight at the men by the door.
They froze, instinctively breathing in as the powder clouded the air.
“Whoa, what is that?” one of them stammered, swaying a bit. “I’m… kinda dizzy…”
“Hey, something’s off with this stuff,” another muttered, already slumping against the wall. “She’s got something weird...”
Within moments, they were dropping like bowling pins, one after another collapsing to the floor, out cold.
Oliver, still lounging on the couch, blinked in disbelief. He hadn’t seen that coming, but he kept his composure, just quirking an eyebrow.
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