The General Secretary's eyes blazed with venom. "You shouldn't have crossed me, Lyra," he hissed, his voice deep and intimidating.
Lyra's lips curled into a calculated smile. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass with deliberate slowness.
"I had to," she said, her tone light, almost careless. "I'd have been dead meat by now."
Her gaze never left the General Secretary's face, her eyes sparkling with challenge.
The General Secretary chuckled, rumbling with threat. He raised his glass, the wine swirling amber in the light.
"You've only expedited your death sentence, Lyra," he said, his voice dripping with spite.
He leaned forward, his face inches from hers. "I'm shocked you're not trembling with fear. You asked for this meeting, knowing I was the on
