Early morning.
The sun had only just woken up.
The mansion's grand hall was covered in sunlight.
Adira Crowe sat with her long legs crossed, clothed in a silky black robe that glistened like oil under the light. Her maids surrounded her in silence, one of them gently dabbing a soft layer of foundation onto her porcelain skin, while another trimmed and shaped her sharp brows.
Standing across from her, however, weren't her usual trained security professionals. No, these men wore black suits with crumpled collars, creased knuckles, and boots stained from back-alley chases and backdoor deals.
Hired muscle. Killers.
Adira let out a long, unamused sigh.
"So you're telling me…"
She slowly bit her lip as her voice grew sharper.
"You still haven't found that useless Amalie…"
Her light blue eyes froze up.
"… and also have no leads on who Nightwatch gave the stolen data to?"
The hitmen didn't speak immediately.
They felt so uncomfortable.
