At that moment, upon hearing what Joe just said, Benedict froze mid‑stride. His boots stopped clacking against the marble floor, and his head tilted slightly as if he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. His soldiers straightened instinctively, their eyes flicking between their commander and the stranger who dared to speak so boldly.
Benedict slowly turned, his heavy military coat shifting with the motion. His gaze swept Joe from head to toe sharp, appraising, almost predatory. His brow furrowed as his lips twisted into a faint, humorless smirk.
"Who the hell are you?" Benedict's voice cut through the hall like a blade. "Have we met before?"
The scene seemed to shrink around them. The tension was thick enough to choke on, but Joe didn't flinch. He lifted his head, his eyes steady, though there was a flicker of nervousness behind them. Taking a slow breath, he straightened his tie and answered.
