"If they wanted us dead, they wouldn't bring noisy helicopters," Ethan said coolly. "Mr. Shen just wants to show me that he still holds the key to open my front door whenever he pleases."
Mr. Shen walked across the lawn, his silk robe billowing in the residual rotor wash. He stopped directly in front of the porch steps, staring at Ethan with a smile that looked like a scar etched onto his aged face.
"Quite a house, Ethan. Too nice for a servant, perhaps, but certainly too narrow for a sovereign," Mr. Shen remarked. His eyes then flicked over to Xander. "And you, young man. Your hands are trembling. Is that respect for your elders, or do you realize your weapon won't fire before your head parts ways with your body?"
Xander clenched his jaw shut. "Try taking another step closer to that do
