The four rough men took a slow, trembling step backward away from Allen. They pressed their backs hard against the brick wall of the building.
Their faces had completely lost all of their healthy color. They were shaking so violently that their leather vests rustled in the quiet alley. The clubs and rusty daggers in their hands trembled, making soft scraping sounds.
Camilla walked slowly and confidently toward them. Her soft leather shoes made no sound in the wet mud.
"What is going on here?" Camilla spoke out loud.
Her voice was not loud. But it was smooth, calm, and filled with a dark, freezing authority that instantly cut through the heavy tension of the alley.
The largest thug, the bald man who had been holding the club, swallowed hard. His throat felt dry. His knees shook so much they almost knocked together under his trousers. He looked at her silk dress, realizing she was dressed like a wealthy noblewoman of the highest class. He now knew how to address her.
