Phoebe's POV
Malcolm understood Lan's capabilities, but even the most skilled fighter couldn't manage everything single-handedly. Here on the border, going it alone was practically suicide.
Noah and Dion dropped into respectful bows, speaking together, "Hello, Miss Hale."
These two were Malcolm's elite operatives, and they knew exactly who I was. Unlike the fragile socialite most people expected, I was lethal in combat and merciless in my execution.
Here on the border, raw power was all that counted.
Harold sized up the two massive men—Noah and Dion looked like walking mountains—gave an approving nod at their obvious combat prowess, then glanced my way. "They're rough around the edges, but they know how to fight. Either one could demolish a dozen guys without breaking a sweat. When you decide to go exploring and inevitably find trouble, they'll buy you some time."
