---
A carriage rolled by too slowly, its driver pretending not to look at anyone. A pair of cloaked figures stood at a corner stall that sold nothing, speaking in murmurs like prayers. Even the stray dogs here did not bark. They watched. They learned.
Sekhmet reached the same warehouse door as yesterday.
The same place.
But the guards were different.
Not the lazy "half-drunk" act from before. Tonight, the men standing there had their backs straight and their hands visible on purpose. Their eyes were too steady. Their breathing too calm. Their posture screamed that someone had warned them.
They recognized him the moment the torchlight hit his face.
One guard's gaze flicked to Sekhmet's shoulder.
To Bat Bat.
Then back to Sekhmet again.
No greeting.
No joke.
Just a slight shift of weight, like the man was ready to run or stab depending on which order came first.
Sekhmet did not slow.
He did not bargain.
