Dorian's expression darkened instantly. "So Commander Green is taking someone out of my hands." "Once I'm done with him, you can have him back." Thora's voice was low and firm. Dorian didn't respond, but the look on his face said everything. Thora knew this was non-negotiable on her end—a buyer was the fastest route to the seller, and the people Shirley had rounded up almost certainly knew nothing of real value. Badi could not stay here. Just then, Darius walked in. At the sight of him, Dorian's men stiffened, an instinctive flash of deference crossing their faces. None of them moved to stop him. But Dorian clearly had no intention of showing Darius any courtesy. His tone was unyielding. "Even with you here, I'm not letting this one go." Darius didn't argue. He simply glanced at Thora and gave her a look. Thora read it immediately. She grabbed Badi, spun on her heel, and walked out, practically dragging the man across the floor behind her. Dorian let out a cold scoff, raised his hand, and leveled a gun at Thora's retreating back. But the moment his arm came up, Darius's hand clamped down on his shoulder—an iron grip that locked him in place, draining every ounce of strength from the limb in an instant. Dorian's fingers sprang open involuntarily. The pistol clattered to the floor. His men exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes fixed on Darius with sharp wariness. Dorian smiled coldly, though no sound came with it. "Jason, I may consider you a friend, but that doesn't mean the Ciphers are afraid of you."Darius's lips curved, his words unhurried and deliberate. "Mr. Cipher, do you have any idea which organization she's representing this time?" Dorian held his stare, his tone flat. "Why should I care?" Darius let four words fall, slow and heavy. "Blue Star Military Academy." At the mention of that name, something in Dorian's expression shifted, so subtle it was almost imperceptible. "Besides, do you really think you could've stopped her?" Darius added, his tone laced with amusement—the kind that begged to be punched. Dorian glared at him with ice in his eyes, but Darius looked thoroughly unbothered. He strolled over to the couch and sank into it as if the whole thing had nothing to do with him. He snapped his fingers. The door opened immediately as someone entered with a tray of drinks and light refreshments. Dorian stood rooted in place for a few seconds, then finally waved his men off. "Rest assured, Mr. Cipher. She said she'll return him when she's done, and she always keeps her word." Darius poured a glass of champagne and extended it toward Dorian. Dorian's expression was still frosty, though noticeably less so than moments ago. What was done was done. There was no point dwelling on it. What truly grated on him was Thora's attitude—the way she'd walked in and acted as though he didn't even exist. "That Commander Green of yours—if she ever quits the military, she'd make one hell of a bandit." Dorian let out a derisive laugh, every syllable dripping with barbed sarcasm. Darius raised his champagne glass with a smile, smoothing things over. "Cut her some slack, Mr. Cipher. She's still young. Doesn't know any better." Dorian was momentarily lost for words—why did that sound so familiar? Then it hit him. Over two years ago, when Thora had strong-armed him into signing that agreement, Darius had used the exact same line to cover for her. Even if she'd been young back then, surely she'd grown up by now? "Jason, you really never change when it comes to covering for Commander Green." Dorian's voice was cold, his irritation not even trying to hide. Darius simply smiled, leaned back into the couch, and took a quiet sip of champagne. He offered nothing—no confirmation, no denial. Dorian picked up his own glass and brought it to his lips—a silent concession to this brief, uneasy truce. "This whole affair should concern the Blackwoods too, shouldn't it?" Dorian suddenly turned the question back on him. "Why aren't you out there dealing with it yourself?" Something deeper stirred behind Darius's eyes. He spoke slowly, as if weighing every word. "Whether she handles it or I handle it ... there's no difference."Dorian frowned, staring at him for a long beat before it finally registered. Wait—did he just get hit with a couple's flex?