The truth? The guards never stood a chance.
Lara had slipped after them like a shadow, every footfall silent, and her presence unnoticeable. Beneath the guise of Atalia's humble servant, she had studied their faces and their movements. She memorized weaknesses and patterns.
She waited until they stepped far enough into the bush, away from the glow of the fire, where darkness turned thick and soundless.
That was where she struck.
With the precision of a trained assassin, she jabbed a tiny, needle-thin weapon into the base of each man's neck. The venom worked fast—paralysis, confusion, nausea—mimicking the symptoms of a snakebite.
Only one real snake had been deployed, coiled carefully beneath a pile of leaves. It was placed there by the man in black with ghost-white hair, hidden beneath a turban — Jethru.
