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Knows everything.
Jase steps slightly in front of me.
Shielding.
Always.
“Do I know you?” he asks flatly.
The man smiles faintly.
“No,” he says. “But I know you.”
Of course you do.
They always do.
His gaze shifts to me.
And something in his expression changes.
Interest.
Recognition.
Calculation.
“Mila Vescov,” he says.
My stomach tightens.
“You’ve been… difficult.”
I step forward anyway.
“I get that a lot.”
Jase’s hand brushes mine.
A warning.
Or a promise.
Maybe both.
The man chuckles softly.
“You have something that belongs to us.”
The air shifts.
Everyone feels it.
Weapons subtly adjust.
Positions tighten.
This is it.
