Silhouetted against the fog rolling across the dockyard stood Zaria, her stance casual yet deadly precise. The smoking pistol in her hand glinted in the harsh dock lights. The weight of her presence seemed to alter the very air around them.
"You," Marcus said, recognition and something like rage coloring his voice.
"Me," Zaria confirmed, her tone eerily calm. She stepped forward, each footfall deliberate. "You didn't sense me coming, did you? Been working on that for years."
Marcus's face twisted with contempt. "We had an agreement. This was between Hawk and me. You gave your word."
Zaria's laugh was hollow, devoid of humor. "My word?" Her eyes hardened to obsidian. "You talk about honor after what you did to Cole?"
The name hung between them like a physical presence. For the briefest moment, genuine emotion flickered across Marcus's perfect features—something almost like regret.
