The industrial sector seemed to hold its breath as Zara locked eyes with Gabriel, the Syndicate's most feared enforcer. His cruel smile was as sharp as the blade he casually spun in his hand. Around him, a dozen heavily armed guards emerged from the shadows, their weapons trained on Zara.
“Well, Zara,” Gabriel drawled, stepping closer. “I thought you’d run out of lives by now. Yet here you are, still meddling in matters far beyond your reach.”
Zara didn’t flinch, her pistol steady in her grasp. “And you’re still playing the Syndicate’s lapdog. You’d think a man like you would have more ambition.”
Gabriel’s smile faltered for a split second, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. He waved a hand, signaling his men to fan out. “Ambition? Coming from a woman who’s been reduced to scavenging and sabotage? Spare me the moral high ground.”