The woman who stood in the doorway was not what Rey had expected.
Young—mid-twenties at most—with striking features that would have made her stand out in any crowd. Long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that combined delicate beauty with an underlying hardness in her eyes.
She wore expensive clothing that managed to be both elegant and practical, the attire of someone who understood that appearance mattered but wouldn't let it interfere with function.
But it was her presence that truly marked her as dangerous.
Power radiated from her—not the crude intimidation of the scarred man or the predatory calculation of the thin woman, but something more refined. The confidence of someone who had been born into authority and learned to wield it effectively.
Rey instantly stood once she made her appearance.
"Modred Helt," she said, her voice carrying a musical quality that somehow made it more rather than less commanding. "Thank you for your patience. Please, sit."
