Elena strode toward Skullrend's base alongside a group of heroes led by Frostveil, her boots crunching over gravel strewn with ash.
Suspicion gnawed at her—Frostveil's alliance still felt like a blade balanced on its edge, ready to cut either way.
She studied the woman's pale silhouette, searching for a telltale twitch, a flicker of deceit in those ice-blue eyes.
Nothing.
Frostveil's posture was rigid but calm, her gaze fixed ahead, betraying no hint of treachery. So far.
Skullrend's base loomed before them—a sprawling warehouse, its steel walls glinting dully under a bruised sky.
Frostveil paused, gesturing toward it with a gloved hand. "Small-time villains are likely still inside," she said, her voice cool and clipped. "Waiting for Skullrend to return. If you want them dead, go in and finish it."
Elena's eyes narrowed, locking onto Frostveil's.
Has she really turned good?
