Something pressed against her waist.
That thing was hard, with a cold temperature.
Phoebe's face still carried a smile, her light pink eyes staring at the pair of eyes before her that, due to colored contact lenses, seemed exceedingly dark and bright but somewhat lifeless.
"Who are you?"
The fox froze for two seconds, then relaxed again, throwing him a coquettish glance.
"Annoying, playing such games, who do you say I am? I'm obviously your woman!"
If we talk about the fox, she truly lived up to her shape-shifting abilities.
In such an unexpected situation, she could recover her composure and respond with ease so quickly; indeed, she was remarkable.
Unfortunately, she encountered Phoebe.
"Is that so?" Phoebe smiled, lifted his palm, pulled down her fingers from around his neck, and pressed her against the wall, raising his gun with his right hand against her chest, while his left hand landed on her face, fingertips gently caressing her skin.
