I lowered the wounded guard as gently as the chaos allowed, though the man had already slipped past hearing, my final warning hanging heavier in the smoke-thick air than any command I had ever given my own men.
*North. Toward the capital. Straight into the stepqueen's hands.*
I rose sharply, scanning the compound's burning interior for any sign of Lord Arone or Minister Cooper, the two men whose survival mattered nearly as much as the stolen evidence itself. Kell's riders had already cut down three attackers near the eastern wall, and the clash of remaining steel was thinning fast, the Vane soldiers realizing too late that my arrival had shifted the numbers firmly against them.
"Wyers!" Torres's voice cut through the smoke, and I turned to find him dragging a soot-streaked, coughing man
