The temperature in Moshe's eyes instantly plunged past the freezing point. He scooped Cheryl into his arms and fixed the waiter with a death stare. "If you know what's best for you, then you'd better lead me there." Not that he would let this person escape, Moshe brooded. He had touched what belonged to Moshe. There would be no mercy.
Terror seized the waiter's heart like a poisonous vice. He truly felt as if a scythe was hanging over his neck. If he made one wrong movement, then it would instantly cut his head off! He was on the verge of breaking down into tears. "I—I—I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry! I—I swear I don't know anything! Mr. Zion gave me a huge sum of money just to lock the resting lounge. I really don't know anything!"
