A servant ran into the room, pale and out of breath. "Sir, there is a private starfighter hovering above the estate. It is descending toward the courtyard."
Fenris's face went pale. He looked at Silvia, then at Jinx, then back at the servant. His mind raced. Was this his lucky day or a terrible one? A private starfighter meant someone with immense wealth and power. But it could also mean trouble.
The noise did not stop. It grew more distant but continued rumbling, a constant reminder that whatever was out there was not leaving.
A man walked into the dining hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a fitted black coat. His green eyes swept across the room with casual amusement.
"I just love making an entrance," Flynn said.
