Paige met his glare, her expression defiant. "I didn't ask for your help, Clinton. I know what I'm doing."
"You know what you're doing?" Clinton barked, his voice rising. "Then explain how this guy is dead and you're lucky to be alive. What were you going to do if I hadn't shown up?"
Before Paige could retort, the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. Both of them froze, their gazes snapping toward the source of the noise.
A tall man emerged from the shadows, his movements calculated, his dark eyes locking onto Paige with a calm yet piercing intensity. Clinton stiffened, immediately on edge, his protective instincts flaring.
"Who the hell are you?" Clinton demanded, stepping slightly in front of Paige.
The man—Gad—ignored Clinton completely, his focus fixed solely on Paige. "We need to talk," he said evenly, his tone carrying authority but no aggression.
