Elena reclined in a plush velvet armchair in her opulent sitting room, a crystal glass filled with an expensive cocktail dangling from her perfectly manicured fingers. She took a slow sip, savoring the complex notes of the aged liquor as her cold eyes scanned the dimly lit space. Across from her sat Drake, her most trusted aide and confidant.
"We have been far too patient, Drake," Elena declared, her voice smooth as silk but laced with an undercurrent of malice. "Lying low, biding our time while Blake and that insipid Rose go about their lives, blissfully unaware of the reckoning that awaits them."
Drake leaned forward, his chiseled features illuminated by the flickering light of the fireplace. "What would you have us do, my lord? The incident on the island did not go as planned. Blake survived, and now he and Rose will be on high alert."
