---
The praise hit Reyan exactly the way it was meant to. His shoulders eased. His chest straightened slightly. Betrayers always wanted payment. But before payment, they wanted validation.
Dickon gave it to him like poison wrapped in silk.
"When this is done," Dickon continued, "you will be rewarded."
Reyan's eyes flickered with greed. "I serve where value exists, young master."
Dickon almost rolled his eyes.
No. You serve where the money drips. But he did not say it.
Instead he nodded once.
"Then take us to the vault."
Reyan turned immediately.
"This way."
They moved.
The rear corridor opened into the lower administrative route leading toward the auction sub-levels. Their boots echoed softly on stone. Men spread themselves with professional instinct — front, center, rear, each cluster keeping line of sight without bunching too tightly.
They were not merely thieves.
They were a strike group.
Dickon enjoyed that thought.
