At that moment, when the remaining men saw their boss drop to her knees head bowed and words trembling they were frozen in place. Not a single one of them had ever seen her act this way before. This was the same woman who had once faced down a city gang boss without flinching, the same woman who had ordered executions like she was ordering wine at a table. And now? She was kneeling. Apologizing. Trembling. It made no sense to them.
But they knew something had shifted the moment her eyes fell on the tattoo inked just beneath Oliver's rolled-up sleeve the baby dragon. That symbol… it wasn't just a tattoo. It was a mark. A warning. A declaration. And to those who understood the ancient script woven through the dragon's outline, it spoke of a bloodline, a title, a power that didn't exist in the world of ordinary people.
She had seen it. She understood it. And the fear that washed through her body wasn't just panic it was submission.
