Four mates. One had just cut a deal over whiskey with her father. One was on the road to Greyhall Crossing. One was having a dragon tantrum meltdown because he'd seen a blade at her throat and there was no way to get to her. And one was parked outside her door after eavesdropping on her entire exit strategy and accepting the bad look. Their coordination, as it had been all day, was aggressively fucking terrible.
The door opened.
One of her men filled the doorway, young, broad, and visibly pissed about whoever had the balls to knock. The second his eyes hit Nicholas, his posture snapped from 'who the fuck is this' to 'sir, yes sir.' The kid's spine straightened so fast Nicholas heard it crack.
Nicholas could tell immediately this group was a team of rookies. A couple had given off newbie energy earlier, but this sealed it. All of them were green as spring grass and twice as easy to step on.
