Lydia never asked questions about what her captain planned to do; she just followed orders blindly.
Gripping her fists, she answered with absolute seriousness, “Got it, Captain. Leave it to me. You get some rest.”
Once the instructions were given, Serena headed straight to her room.
After shutting the door, she changed into a black hoodie and cargo pants, attire better suited for movement and stealth.
Pulling up the hood, she flawlessly evaded everyone's line of sight and slipped out through a concealed side exit of the hotel.
Just as she pushed open the glass side door.
A tall, imposing figure strode directly toward her.
In the brief moment they brushed past each other, Serena's eyes narrowed slightly.
She acutely caught a very faint scent emanating from the man.
It was the scent of blood and gunpowder, the kind of metallic tang that seeped into one's bones only after surviving on the edge of life and death through endless slaughter.
She was all too familiar with this scent.
Serena did not break her stride. She merely shifted her gaze slightly, using the shadow of her hood to cast a rapid, sweeping look at him.
He was a remarkably tall and striking man.
Visually well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and long legs.
Even though he wore a simple black civilian jacket, his impeccable physique and the lethal aura radiating from his every movement could not hide the iron-blooded authority of a top-tier Elyndorian soldier.
Serena's eyes narrowed a fraction more.
His chiseled features and sharp, commanding brow gave her a faint sense of familiarity.
Where had she seen him before?
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