The jet's engines whined to a halt, the metallic hum fading as the aircraft settled on the secluded airstrip.
Cain descended the steps of the jet, his expression calm and composed. His blond hair fell loosely across his forehead, framing his sharp, unreadable features. Henry followed closely, his gaze hard, his stance unyielding. The moment his boots met the tarmac, his hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his blade, ready to be drawn at the slightest provocation.
The pair hadn't taken more than a few steps when a group of guards emerged—at least a dozen men clad in dark clothes, their weapons slung openly and arrogantly across their bodies. The crest of Eldric—a snarling wolf's head—was emblazoned on their chests. They spread out in a loose, intimidating formation, blocking the path to the black cars waiting ahead.
