Sera's mouth curved as she watched the glossy woman throwing a tantrum. "If people vanish in places like this, then your General needs better people. No one should be able to just up and disappear. Not when they belong to someone."
Something in the woman snapped. She thrust out her arm, open palm, as if she could claim the space by touching air. "You walk out with our goods and—"
"Enough," Zubair cut, and the word landed like a weight.
He kept her at the edge of his shoulder, attention on her men.
The pipe man had shifted left. The shotgun man—now unarmed—had edged away from Zubair the moment the other man was distracted enough to let him go. He didn't bother to try and get his weapon back; he wanted to be as far away from Zubair as possible before he snapped again.
The fourth man had his hand in his jacket, his fingers twitching over a grip he wasn't brave enough to pull.
"Back up," Zubair told them. "Hands out where I can see them."
They didn't move.
