Limone stood in the corridor, locking eyes with Sixon. Neither spoke, tension coiling between them like a drawn string.

Sixon’s pride was bruised, and he lashed out first. “Come to enjoy the spectacle, huh? Laughing at us now—it’s funny, isn’t it? Watching everyone mock our family team? Is this what you wanted?”

Limone’s voice was ice, her expression carved from stone. “It’s your incompetence, not mine.”

At that moment, members of ...