The aftermath of the woman’s death leaves an eerie silence, the snow beneath her melted into a dark, steaming puddle. The air still hums with the lingering pulse of dark energy, thick and suffocating, but nothing happens. No sudden attacks. No hidden assassins. Just silence.
For the first time in what feels like forever, Anakin lets out a breath and doesn’t immediately brace for impact.
Dante, however, is dramatically brushing off his jacket. “I swear,” he grumbles, glancing at the spot where the woman exploded, “if one more person drops cryptic threats before dying, I’m going to lose it.”
Jax lets out a weak, nervous laugh. “I think I already lost it,” he mutters, running a hand through his dark hair. “Lucifer, Gabriel, exploding assassins? Yeah, I’m done.”
Lila, on the other
