The narrow alley across from the Moon Lake Hotel lay steeped in shadow.
Figures crouched among the piles of debris, eyes glinting in the darkness like animals waiting for prey.
At the front stood two of them — the Tracker, lean and anxious, and the man everyone called the Cunning Fox, whose smirk never reached his eyes.
The Tracker's breath clouded in the night air. "What in the abyss is happening? Why did the Moon Lord come here of all places?" His voice quivered with disbelief. "Shouldn't she be patrolling the central district or waiting for Bloodbeard's attack signal?"
The Fox's jaw tightened, a vein pulsing at his temple. "What else could it be? The thief must've reached her before we did." He spat on the ground, bitterness thick in his tone. "And we were supposed to handle this alone."
