Ronan narrowed his eyes at the masked figures. His brain went into overdrive. These people—no, these things—were a whole lot stronger than anyone I had ever come across.
His attention turned to the white-masked woman. She was absolutely monster, her presence impossible to read.
Is that energy making them stronger? Ronan thought, grinding his jaw.
The masked man stepped forward, each step heavy with intent. His mask was lupine, and fangs bared in the weak light. Deep-voiced, his voice carried through the room.
"On behalf of Madam Llythia," he said, gesturing toward the woman in the white mask, "we warn you: return what was taken from the mines of Greyvein. Surrender, and you may find mercy in death. Refuse, and unimaginable pain will be your end."
