Zoey swiftly drew two short swords from the small of her back. The sharpened steel glinted, reflecting what little light reached the alley as she crossed them before her chest—a final, desperate bulwark to protect the unconscious Hanna.

  Marcus, his face a mask of cold, emotionless stone, began to advance step by step. Each heavy thud of his boots against the cracked asphalt sounded like the ticking of a death clock.

  "Move!" Marcus barked. The command was a thunderclap that echoed violently through the narrow confines of the alley.

  Zoey didn't flinch. She tightened her grip on the hilts until the veins in her hands stood out in stark relief. She drew a jagged breath, searching for a spark of strength amidst the terror crushing her chest.

  "Over my dead body," Zoey countered, her voice trembling but forged in resolve.

  Marcus’s brow furrowed, a vein in his temple pulsing with rising fury. His eyes narrowed into slits, sharp enough to shred Zoey’s courage into ribbons.

  Damn it... I can’t win against this animal, Zoey whispered to herself. Even though her mind predicted a gruesome end, she stayed rooted. She pushed the paralyzing fear aside, choosing her stand.

  "Kill her," Marcus commanded his subordinates.

  Without wasting a heartbeat, the two hulking men lunged forward with supernatural speed. Zoey dropped her center of gravity, bending her knees and leveling her blades at the encroaching threat.

  "STOP!"

  A command of immense power shattered the tension. The voice didn't belong to Zoey, nor Marcus. It was a voice saturated with absolute authority, causing Marcus’s men to freeze mid-stride as if their feet had been bolted to the earth.

  Every eye turned toward the source.

  "Lady Jane?" Zoey whispered. Her trembling voice gave way to a long, shaky sigh of relief.

  A tall woman with silver hair that shimmered in the morning light stepped into the center of the carnage. She wasn't alone. Behind her, dozens of men and women materialized simultaneously, sealing off the alley. Even behind Zoey, scores of warriors appeared, bristling with everything from honed blades to tactical firearms.

  "If I followed my heart, I would end you right here, son of Maximus. You have some nerve, trespassing into our territory and slaughtering my people!" Lady Jane’s voice was low, yet it cut like a razor.

  Marcus remained silent. His jaw remained locked tight, the realization dawning on him that he was completely cornered.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Perhaps Maximus has grown bored with peace. Does that old beast truly wish to ignite a war?" Lady Jane continued, her sarcasm laced with venom.

  "I didn't come here to start trouble with The Hand. I only came to take the traitor’s child," Marcus replied, attempting to salvage what was left of his pride.

  "This girl is under my protection, Marcus! Take her if you dare," Lady Jane challenged. "But I swear, I won't hesitate to send every one of your heads back to Maximus. Don't think for a second we’ve forgotten our grudge against Wolfgang!"

  Lady Jane walked right up to Marcus, showing not a flicker of fear. "We’ve just been waiting for a reason good enough to start this war."

  Marcus’s eyes widened as he stared at her, seemingly unable to process the audacity of the woman standing before him.

  "Hahahaha!" Lady Jane let out a cold, mocking laugh. With a casual flick of her wrist, she took one of the short swords from Zoey’s hand. "What are you waiting for? I thought you wanted the girl?"

  Marcus stood like a statue. His gaze flickered down to Hanna’s limp body draped over Robert. The alley went silent, save for the metallic click of safeties being disengaged and blades being drawn.

  "Marcus..." one of his men whispered urgently. "We can’t win this."

  Marcus remained mute. He knew the truth of it. Picking a fight with The Hand on their own turf would only invite a catastrophe they weren't ready for. The mission should have been settled back in West Virginia, but he never expected Hanna to awaken a transformation capable of slaughtering his men and Marco.

  The atmosphere grew suffocating. The members of The Hand began to tighten the circle, closing in inch by inch with faces full of pure, unadulterated loathing. Every one of them looked hungry for the green light from Lady Jane to fall upon Marcus and his men and tear them apart.

  "Take Marco’s body. We’re leaving," Marcus ordered sharply, struggling to hide the desperation creeping into his voice.

  "You aren't just leaving this alley, Marcus. You’re leaving this country, right now," Lady Jane intervened, her voice cold and brookng no argument. "Consider this mercy a final warning for Maximus."

  Marcus ground his teeth. "Maximus and Victor will not take this lying down, Lady Jane. Don't think they’ve spent all these years fearing your organization."

  Lady Jane let out a dismissive, insulting snort before stepping even closer, locking her eyes onto his. "And you think I fear them?"

  Silence hung in the air. Marcus said nothing, unable to find a retort for a woman of her standing. He looked back at Hanna one last time with an unreadable expression before slowly turning away.

  Without looking back, Marcus retreated with his men, who carried Marco’s stiffening corpse. They moved out under the heavy, watchful eyes of dozens of Hand operatives, who held their weapons at the ready, prepared to strike at the slightest provocation.

  "Watch them until they cross the border!" Lady Jane commanded, her voice loud enough to grate against Marcus’s ears as he retreated.

  Marcus kept walking, his body rigid as he fought back the boiling rage inside. As a warrior of Wolfgang, he had never been so humiliated, but he knew better—crossing Lady Jane here meant certain death.

  As soon as Marcus and the body were out of sight, Lady Jane turned toward Zoey. But before the silver-haired woman could utter a word, Zoey collapsed to her knees on the rough asphalt.

  "I’m sorry, Lady Jane. All of this... it was my negligence," Zoey pleaded, her head bowed in deep, genuine remorse.

  Lady Jane clenched her jaw. Her face was taut, the anger at Zoey for failing to protect Hanna plain to see. But as she looked at the two blood-streaked bodies lying broken on the ground, her fury softened into a sharp, piercing worry.

  "Hanna..." she whispered, rushing toward the girl.

  Taking the cue, several Hand members with medical expertise moved in at once. They worked with practiced, quiet efficiency, checking Robert’s thready pulse and stabilizing the unconscious Hanna beneath the shelter of Zoey’s jacket.