Raven stood outside the one-way glass, arms loose at her sides, the holding room's chill rising through the concrete and into her bare feet like slow fingers.
Cold kept people awake. She liked that. Two hours since Gabriel went into surgery. No word yet. The mansion felt hollow without the Iron Wall's steady presence in the war room, the quiet weight of him that made every plan feel anchored. Every footstep echoed a little louder tonight. Every shadow stretched longer.
The mercenary commander sat inside, wrists zip-tied to the chair arms. Head slumped. Breathing shallow but steady. He had been trained. Pain wouldn't break him. Pain made men say anything to make it stop. She needed the truth, not noise.
Adrian leaned against the wall beside her, shoulder brushing the glass. His voice came low. "Medical says Gabriel is stable. Lost a lot of blood. He'll live."
