He dipped his chin.
Unable to read what was going on in his head, she swallowed the lump of panic choking her.
"I...need my clothes. My uniforms." She held out hope that during work she could run out the front door. Since serving the customers, she'd noticed the bikers who acted like bodyguards were often pulled away from the front of the establishment. She'd bide her time, and look for a perfect escape.
Even if she had to confide in one of the male customers to help her get away, she would.
"I have men cleaning out your house. You'll have your belongings soon." He looked over his shoulder when someone called his name. Turning back to her, he said, "It'll only go worse for you if you break the rules or try to get someone to help you."
Then, he walked away. Left standing against the building, she gazed around at all the people. The members of Slag went about their day, talking, working on their motorcycles, and moving around the area. None of them paid her a second of attention.
She gazed at the nearest gate. The biker she'd tried to get her to help her leaned against the metal with his arms crossed. He wasn't looking at her, but she knew without any doubt that if she tried to escape, he'd stop her.