Nico
I kept my weapon steady as we moved through Blade's mansion, but nothing about the situation felt steady.
Fifteen of his men surrounded us, all armed, all tense, all watching shadows like they expected the walls to start shooting first. I didn't blame them. I was doing the same thing.
Blade walked in front of me, proud and tall like this was just another day.
That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about.
He was an old man—white beard, tattooed skin, slow but confident steps—but there was nothing fragile about him. Even under siege, even with betrayal practically breathing down his neck, he moved like the building still belonged to him and it did.
Like death wasn't prowling around in corners.
Lawn was just ahead of us, leading the route toward what was supposed to be the back exit. A clean escape through the rear corridor. At least, that's what it was supposed to be.
