The doorframe rattled with a sudden knock, then the sound of footsteps.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The voice wasn’t loud, but it cut like a blade through the tension.
The patched men froze mid-jeer, their laughter dying in their throats.
Haru stood at the threshold, framed by the hallway’s dim light. Her hand rested protectively on her rounded belly, her posture steady despite the exhaustion written in her features. Her dark eyes swept the wreck of the room—overturned chair, broken glass, Cordelia with bloodied knuckles—and then locked on the men.
She didn’t need to shout. Her voice was low, even, but each syllable landed heavy. “Chaos might forgive stupidity. But Devil?” She paused, letting the silence stretch until the men began to fidget. “He won’t forgive disobedience. And Ash
