Chapter 87
The guards reached for the woman.
She flinched—not away from their hands, but toward her child, curling her body around the small, still form like a shield of pure desperation. Her tears fell onto the boy's pale face, tracing clean paths through the dust and grime of the road.
"Please," she whispered. Not to the guards anymore, but to everyone. "Please."
The guard's fingers closed around her arm.
"She's with us."
The voice was calm and unhurried. It cut through the noise of the restaurant like a knife through silk.
The guards froze.
Every head turned.
Dax had not risen from his seat, nor had he raised his voice. He simply sat at his table, a skewer still in one hand, his dark eyes fixed on the scene at the entrance with an expression that could have been curiosity—or something far more dangerous.
Madeka's hand paused in his hair.
Nadia's golden eyes narrowed.
