The moment Sera and the KAS team entered Rafael's mansion, Zubair did what he always did first… he counted.
One door behind them.
Two side corridors.
Three staircases he could see from the foyer landing if he leaned half an inch left.
Four hall guards—no, not guards, not in uniform—men with the kind of easy stance that comes from routine.
A brass clock ticked on a side table, but the hands didn't make sense; the second hand hopped, hesitated, hopped again, like it was stubborn about moving forward.
Elias wanted answers the way thirsty men want water.
"What was that?" he asked, voice even, eyes not. "Why a fifteen-second door on strangers you invited in?"
Rafael didn't answer him right away.
He unwound his bandana with one hand and pushed his goggles up with the other, as if to say: you asked for honesty, here is a face to go with it.
