Page 50 of Dalla's Royal Guards
She looked up at the two men, her heart full and aching, and rose to her feet.
Nasser instinctively stood as well and took a step toward her, but she lifted a hand and shook her head.
“I just need a moment… alone.”
He stopped, nodding.
She turned and walked toward the cave entrance. Her steps were slow… but steady.
Dima, Simdan
The sun dipped behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows across the sprawling skyline of Dima, the capital city of Simdan. Kramer stood at the window, staring out at the construction across the city. Historical buildings, many still in a state of repair from the damage of war and neglect, mixed with new, modern structures.
The air inside the elegant penthouse suite was crisp, filtered through state-of-the-art ventilation that carried the subtle scent of imported sandalwood. The sleek desk at the center of the room reflected the last embers of natural light, mirroring thetension that had settled like an invisible storm cloud stirring inside him.
Since the return of Raja Hadi, the mythical Savior of Simdan and ghostly prince thought to have been killed by his ruthless uncle decades ago, international support had flowed into the little-known country.
Hadi’s connections were impressive. From international sensations like jazz and pop star, Idella, to political figures and royalty, the man had changed Simdan’s landscape both locally and internationally.
He is not someone I wish to cross.
A quiet knock at the door caused him to turn away from the scenic view.
“Enter,” he called out.
Doris opened the office door with a polite smile. Kramer nodded to her, and she closed it again behind Detri. Kramer’s eyes narrowed on Detri’s face. The man appeared… distracted.
Shaken.
The thought unsettled him. “What is so important that you deemed it necessary to meet me in person here?” he demanded.
Detri entered, his face stiff and lined with tension. Something in his rigid posture, in the haunted look in his eyes, made Kramer’s brow twitch.
“You look like shit,” Kramer said flatly. “You'd better have something. I won’t tell you how dangerous it is for me to be in this country. I don’t have the same connections that I had with the previous government.”
Detri’s expression turned grim, and he walked forward. He placed the disk Kyle had given him on the desk and motioned to it. Kramer scowled at the disk.
“I’ve already seen the footage,” he snapped.
Detri shook his head. “You haven’t seen this footage,” he snapped back.
Shock coursed through Kramer.
Detri never lost his cool. Not with him.
“Kyle enhanced some new feed that he found from the CCTV cameras in the square,” he said, voice low, taut. “You’ll want to see this for yourself.”
Kramer lifted an eyebrow at Detri’s tone. Ambient lighting automatically came on as the sun set behind him, casting an artificial golden hue across the room.
He took the chip, slid into his leather chair, and inserted it into the laptop waiting on the desk. The screen flickered as the video loaded.
“Let’s see what you’ve brought me now,” he said, his eyes flashing to the screen.
The footage started grainy, then sharpened.
The stone wall of a business in the square backdropped the twisted wreckage of an upside-down SUV. Smoke curled upward from the undercarriage. He was about to look away from the scene when the smoke shimmered and a person appeared. He could still see through the ghostly shape. The resolution sharpened—as did the figure standing on top of the vehicle.
The woman.
