Eamon Greene stood unwavering at the entrance to Liam Knight's villa, arms crossed firmly over his chest. The sun beat down mercilessly, highlighting the tension on his face as he stared down the imposing figure of Asher Lane.
"Move aside, guard dog," Asher commanded, his silk robes rippling in the gentle breeze. His lips curved into a cruel smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. "I won't ask again."
I squared my shoulders, ignoring the sweat trickling down my spine. "As I've said, Young Lord Lane, Master Knight is not receiving visitors. Please return another day."
Asher's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "You dare to refuse me? Do you have any idea who I am?"
"I know exactly who you are." I kept my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart. "It changes nothing."
One of Asher's attendants stepped forward, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek. "Young Lord Lane is a second-rank Master of Inner Strength. What are you? Seventh-rank at best?"
