Seven o'clock sharp.
Night was about to fall across the city, but it wasn't completely dark yet.
The evening breeze drifted by, but instead of its usual pleasant coolness, it carried only the turbulent undercurrents of a brewing conflict.
Two rows of mercenaries, clad in imposing black uniforms, stood expressionlessly with sniper rifles in hand.
Their straight, imposing figures, though expressionless, were enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.
Leona Grant emerged from between the rows of mercenaries.
His gaze swept toward Annabelle Linton, his piercing eyes like daggers stabbing straight into hers, offering no chance to look away.
He was on the verge of laughing out loud.
'On my way back, all I could think about was her. I knew I was too rough this morning, so I bought her favorite pastries to help her calm down.'
'But what had I come back to hear?'
'That she was actually trying to run off with another man?!'
