Jack's cutlass was drawn, its edge gleaming with a menacing sharpness. Mary prepared her electricity, the crackling buzz of energy flickering around her hands. Lyra assumed a battle stance, her expression set.
The officer approached with a grim, self-assured demeanor. He was a tall man, around forty-five, with slicked-back brown hair streaked with grey. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Lyra, a taunting glint in his gaze.
"If I were you, I'd surrender now," he said coldly. "It'll be easier for both of us."
Lyra remained silent, her gaze unwavering.
Jack broke the tension with a mocking grin. "Oi, grandpa, don't strain your back with all that bluster," he said, his tone light but edged with defiance.
The officer, with lightly tanned skin, was clad in a black ornate navy uniform, adorned with silver embellishments and a high-collared coat. Reinforced by lightweight black armor plates, his attire exuded an air of authority.
