Jarlon pushed open the heavy wooden door of the bungalow, the hinges creaking softly in the otherwise quiet evening. The interior was lit, with warm amber lights casting shadows against the weathered walls. The scent of aged wood mixed with faint hints of leather and smoke gave the space a rustic yet lived-in charm. The bungalow's outward appearance blended seamlessly with the surrounding structures. Still, inside, it was clear it was more than an ordinary safehouse.
Bian stood near the window in the living room, his imposing figure framed by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. His sharp amber eyes locked on the group entering, their intensity betraying the calm set of his expression. His lean, muscular build hinted at a lethal mix of power and agility, and how he carried himsel
