The knock came again.
Kael’s hand went to the pistol tucked beneath his jacket. His body shifted in front of Seraphina without thought, a wall of muscle and stillness.
Another knock, louder this time. Whoever it was wasn’t planning on leaving.
“Friends of yours?” Seraphina whispered, voice edged in dry humor, though her heart raced.
Kael didn’t answer. He moved to the door, every step measured. He glanced once over his shoulder, green eyes cutting into her as if to say: stay quiet.
The lock clicked. The hinges creaked.
Four men slipped into the narrow entry like shadows rolling off the street. None of them came in empty-handed. Rifles, blades, scars. They smelled of gun oil, leather, and road dust.
The tallest spoke first, a man with cropped hair and a stone expression.
“Kael.” Hi
