Marcus led the procession, his warrior's pride warring with pragmatic acceptance. Elena followed reluctantly, her archery skills useless against Gold-rank opposition. Jack brought up the rear, his hand still resting on his sword hilt in futile defiance.
'They're gritting their teeth but following orders.'
The leader watched the procession with obvious satisfaction. "Excellent. Your subjects show proper respect for power dynamics. Usually, they run away when things go south."
Derek rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Finally get to examine the merchandise up close."
Torres's gaze fixed on Elena with predatory hunger. "That archer's even prettier without the bow pointed at us."
'Stay focused. Timing is everything.'
Ethan walked ahead of his subordinates, each step carefully measured. Behind him, he could hear the soft sounds of suppressed anger—teeth grinding, fists clenching, quiet curses barely contained.
