The sea wind blew harder, carrying a sharp, salty scent that stung the nose.
The night sky above the old port was dark and starless.
Only the dim glow of broken lamps flickered in the distance.
But no one paid attention to the atmosphere.
Everyone was focused on one thing.
Marcus Sterling's final words.
"The person you think you understand."
Ethan stood a few steps in front of him.
His eyes were sharp.
"Stop playing riddles."
His voice was flat.
Yet there was pressure behind it.
Marcus took a slow breath.
"I don't have time for games."
Leonard Graves crossed his arms.
"That's what people always say when they're playing games."
Daniel stared at Marcus with deep suspicion.
"If it's not you… and it's not Richard Blackwood giving direct orders…"
he paused.
"Then who is it?"
Marcus didn't answer right away.
He glanced around the port as if confirming something.
The small movement didn't escape Leonard's notice.
"You're scared."
Marcus smiled slightly.
