For a long moment after the white-clad female vanished, no one moved. The battlefield remained still—unnaturally so. Even the wind seemed to hesitate. Diana stood rooted in place, her grip tightening slightly around her katana. Inside her, Artemis paced restlessly.
“This is wrong,” Artemis murmured. “Everything about this is wrong.”
Diana didn’t answer. Because she agreed. Beside her, Talon finally exhaled slowly, though tension still coiled through every line of his body.
“We clean this up first,” he said, his voice steady, controlled.
Then his eyes shifted to Diana.
“And then we talk.”
Diana gave a single nod. No argument. Not this time. The Aftermath The next hour passed in controlled urgency. Bodies of the feral rogues were gathered and burned—no risks taken, no remains left that
