The room held its breath as a voice drifted from the doorway. "Wife you say."
Boots thudded in measured rhythm. A woman stepped in, black coat skimming her knees, a small army of operatives in tactical gear fanning behind her, muzzles lowered but not lazy. Steel clicked, safeties snicked, the air tasted of oil and ozone.
The Old Master craned toward the light. His eyes widened, pupils pinpricks. "L… Lady Mona, how come you are here."
She moved like a verdict, cool gaze washing over the bodies on the floor, over Miles standing easy, over the Old Master trussed to his chair. The men at her back spread into the corners, angles covered, lines drawn.
"I am here to give you a message from your wife."
Color surged and fled in the Old Master's face. His voice cracked, hope clawing through panic. "She sent you here to save me right, please help me this person just killed my men from the Island. According to the rules if someone lays hands on Islands people there will be a blood shed."
