Val stood in his main chamber. He had shut the door to Issa's room. The scent of fear and the brutal condition of Issa still hung in the air from the quick, brutal act that had just happened. But beneath it, Val could still smell the camouflaged sweet smell of the poison.

His hands were clean, but the memory of the physician’s throat in his grip was not. His hand still held that weight from the kill.

He walked over to the tall windows, looking out at the rising sun. The golden glow of the ...