Eliana Martinez stood like a specter from another time, her presence electrifying the clearing with unspoken history. Alex felt Sonia stiffen in his arms, her breath catching as though the very air had turned to glass. The woman before them—flawlessly dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that whispered of Swiss precision—seemed to absorb the chaos around them, replacing it with something far more dangerous: calculated intent.
"Mother?" The word fell from Sonia's lips like a prayer and an accusation fused together. "You're... dead."
Eliana's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Death can be a useful tool when necessary, darling." Her gaze shifted to Geneva, hardening into something ancient and unforgiving. "Some people understand that better than others."
Geneva's composure—a legendary trait
