The dimly lit C-Sec office buzzed with a low hum from the overhead lights as the three Spectres gathered around the table, each one bearing the weight of bruises and bandages. Vyras leaned forward, his mandibles twitching in frustration as he broke the silence.
"So," he began, his voice low and tense, "we've all had time to lick our wounds. Let's talk about Winters. Clearly, my initial assessment of him… being somewhat of a typical target was wrong. He's… more than that. But let's not make this personal," he said, dismissively waving a hand as though to brush away the thought.
Nira's eyes flashed with a barely concealed fury as she crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. "More than that? That's an understatement, Vyras," she hissed, her words sharp and cutting. "You and Kol… both underestimated him. Now, we're here, bruised, humiliated, while that… that human and his little asari sidekick slink around the Citadel, mocking everything the Spectres stand for."
Kol, sitting across from her, shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting down. His normally steady demeanor was visibly shaken, and his fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the table. "I…" He hesitated, his voice quieter than usual. "I miscalculated… his abilities. He isn't like anything we've seen. His reaction time, his ability to strategize in the moment… I still don't fully understand it."
Nira's gaze bore into him, her expression one of barely restrained contempt. "Then maybe it's time you did some research instead of running around with theories," she snapped. "This was a failure on all our parts, but it's clear some of us need to catch up to speed."
Vyras shot her a warning look. "Enough, Nira. We're not here to place blame. Right now, we need ideas. Opinions on where Winters and his ally are hiding."
Nira straightened, her eyes narrowing as she thought. "They're hiding, that much is certain. Knowing Winters, he'll want to keep out of the open—probably slunk back into the lower wards, where they can get lost in the chaos. It's where I would expect someone like him to go. He's resourceful, sure, but even he wouldn't risk drawing attention by staying somewhere he can be easily spotted."
Vyras nodded, folding his arms thoughtfully. "That was my initial thought as well. The lower wards would give him the anonymity he craves, the ability to blend in, make contacts… maybe even gather resources."
Kol, who had been quietly listening, shifted in his seat, his face tightening with frustration. "I don't think that's right," he muttered, a note of defiance in his usually calm voice.
Vyras looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Go on."
Kol's fingers resumed their nervous tapping as he looked from Vyras to Nira, then back. "Winters… he's not the type to do the expected. I've reviewed his past movements, analyzed the way he thinks—or at least tries to. He doesn't hide. Not in the way we'd expect. No, he might be hiding in plain sight, somewhere in the upper wards. Somewhere he knows we wouldn't expect him to be."
Nira rolled her eyes, the disbelief in her expression evident. "Hiding in plain sight? That's absurd. He wouldn't risk it."
Kol's jaw tightened, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face. "It's not as absurd as you think, Nira. Winters is…" He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "He's strategic. Calculated. He wouldn't just disappear into the lower wards like some cornered animal. He's using our assumptions against us."
Vyras shook his head, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. "It's too risky. Winters knows we're closing in on him. He wouldn't be foolish enough to remain in an area where C-Sec could spot him at any moment."
Kol's face hardened, and he clenched his jaw. Instead of responding, he merely looked down, retreating into a brooding silence, clearly feeling his input wasn't valued. His usual fast-talking analysis had been replaced by a rigid, defensive quiet.
Vyras glanced at Kol, his expression showing a hint of irritation, but he turned back to the table, refocusing the conversation. "Right. Moving on to tactics," he said, clearing his throat. "We know Winters has a partner—the asari, Athria. She proved more resilient during my interrogation than I expected."
Nira raised an eyebrow, a spark of recognition in her eyes. "Athria Kyrsan. I know of her. Former asari commando. She was… very good at what she did."
Vyras tilted his head, processing the information. "That would explain her resistance. She wasn't an ordinary civilian. And if she's anything like other commandos, she's had extensive biotic training." Nira nodded, her voice slightly begrudging. "More than that. Athria was known for her tactical ability. The combination of her mind and biotics with Winters' sheer survival skills…" She trailed off, her gaze hardening. "We'll have our hands full."
Vyras looked around the room, his mandibles twitching as he considered the implications. The pair of them together would indeed be a challenge to contain. He glanced at Kol, who remained quiet, slouched back in his chair with an unreadable expression.
Vyras cleared his throat, feeling the heavy silence. "With Athria's biotics and Winters' unpredictability, they'll be difficult to counter directly. We may need to separate them, isolate them."
Kol shrugged, still staring down, avoiding eye contact. He muttered, "If they let us get close enough, maybe." Nira threw him a look of annoyance. "What's that supposed to mean, Kol? You have some brilliant plan you're keeping to yourself?"
Kol's eyes flicked up at her, his usual quick analysis replaced by a look of frustration. "No plan, Nira. Not yet, anyway. I just think we're underestimating them. That's what got us here in the first place. You think they're hiding in the lower wards? I think they're doing the exact opposite. But no one wants to listen to the possibility that Winters could be outmaneuvering us."
Vyras clenched his fists, barely containing his irritation. "Enough, Kol. We need cohesion, not defeatism. If you think you're right, then by all means, prove it. But our priority is to locate them, wherever they may be, and do it quickly."
Nira leaned back, exasperated. "Look, maybe Kol is right, maybe he's wrong, but we can't waste time debating this. Winters is out there, with Athria, and they're not going to sit still. If we have any chance of getting the upper hand, we need to act."
Vyras closed his eyes for a brief moment, forcing himself to refocus. "Agreed. We'll start with the lower wards and expand our search from there if needed. Meanwhile, we're gathering whatever intelligence we can on Athria Kyrsan. Anything that could help us predict their next moves."
Kol's face hardened further, his jaw clenching in silent protest. He stayed quiet, however, his earlier spark of defiance now muted, a sullen expression settling over him as he listened.
Nira's voice cut through the silence. "And when we do find them, Vyras?" She leaned forward, her gaze intense. "What's the plan? Because, frankly, we can't afford another… incident like the last one."
Vyras's eyes narrowed, his mandibles twitching slightly. "When we find them, we strike with precision. No grand spectacle this time. In and out, minimize collateral damage." His voice dropped, a dark determination underscoring his words. "This time, we don't let him slip away."
Nira's gaze hardened, and she nodded in agreement. Kol, meanwhile, simply looked away, his face tight, a silent observer in a conversation that was leaving him more and more isolated.
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
The Silver Strip was alive with dazzling lights, neon signs flashing above each doorway, and the faint buzz of energy crackling through the air. The Strip itself stretched wide, lined on either side with casinos, arcades, and high-end clubs that catered to every conceivable alien and human taste. Crowds moved in fluid motion, brushing past the storefronts that displayed luxury items, food stands offering delicacies from across the galaxy, and a scattering of holographic performers that created an almost surreal ambiance.
Martin walked next to Athria, taking in the chaos. The Strip wasn't like the wards, where every move could be scrutinized. Here, no one gave a damn about the people around them, too absorbed in their own little worlds of flashing jackpots and drinks that glowed in dim lighting. He turned his attention back to Athria, who walked beside him with a surprising ease. After the past few days of laying low together, he half-expected her to feel restless or show signs of frustration. But here she was, calm, almost… serene.
They had poured over the data she'd extracted, piecing together hints of political plays and whispered threats within the Turian government. But nothing in the information explicitly explained why the Spectres were hunting him with such fervor. No clear motive pointed to Martin.
"So," Athria's voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked over to find her smiling in that teasing way of hers, "what's the idea of having us walk around and be seen?"
Martin returned her smile with a smirk. "Well, considering that we'll need access to the Spectre database at some point… I don't think we need to break in, exactly. We just need to attract the right kind of attention." Her brow raised slightly, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "How is doing nothing going to help us?"
He gave a shrug as they continued walking, letting their presence ripple through the crowd. People subconsciously moved aside, giving them space, yet Martin noticed a few curious glances in their direction. Perfect. "Kol. The Salarian Spectre. He's an inquisitive type. If I can catch his attention and get him talking, he might end up investigating for us. If not…" he paused, glancing over at her, "well, we can always go with Plan B and kick down a few doors."
Athria chuckled softly, her voice laced with a teasing edge. "You really think this is going to work?"
"Hell if I know," he admitted, shrugging with a faint grin. "But while we wait, we might as well find something fun to do. It's been a while since I've had a chance to relax." She shook her head with a smirk. "Fun? If you wanted fun, we could have stayed in the apartment," she quipped.
"Later," he retorted, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I… need to recover."
They walked past a large arcade, its windows filled with old-style holographic games, the kind that attracted the younger crowd. Across from it, a bar with live music spilled upbeat tunes onto the street, adding a layer of rhythm to the Strip. Martin caught sight of a casino entrance just ahead, its lights spilling out across the pavement like an invitation. He felt a tug in his gut, a urge to do something that was… different for a change, even if it was just for a few hours, a taste of normalcy. No matter how superficial. "Casino?" he asked, nodding toward the entrance.
Athria gave a nod, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "I'm not one to turn down a little gambling. Think they'll let you in, looking like you're ready for a brawl?"
Martin chuckled. "They'll let anyone in as long as they have credits." He walked in entrance, gesturing for her to enter, and followed her inside. The casino floor was a sensory overload: rows of slot machines whirring and beeping, tables filled with card players, and a cloud of excitement hovering in the air. Martin felt a surge of adrenaline. There was something oddly comforting about the noise, the crowds, the anonymity of it all. He never liked these places, usually too loud, too pointless, but something just pulled at him. It was a strange feeling
They found themselves a table in the corner, away from the main crowd. Athria leaned forward, her elbows on the table as she observed him, amusement dancing in her gaze. "So, what's the plan now? Wait around until Kol shows up?"
Martin shrugged, glancing at the tables around them. "More or less. If he's watching. and I'm willing to bet he is. He'll find us soon enough. He's got a knack for popping up, the little weasel."
"Should we be worried?" she asked. "No," he replied, leaning back in his seat. "But knowing him he will try to make it a little dramatic. He seems… theatrical."
They ordered drinks, each taking the opportunity to lean back and watch the spectacle unfold around them. The hours passed easily, conversation drifting from the mundane to the absurd, both of them silently appreciating the calm before what was likely to be another storm. After a while, Martin leaned into her as she sat next to him. "You ever think about how crazy all this is?"
Athria tilted her head, giving him a curious look. "Define 'crazy.' You mean the part where three Spectres are hunting you? Or the part where you're sitting here, acting like it's just another day?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Both, I guess. Just… All this bullshit, Cryopods, Cerberus, whatever the hell we did on the Titan, Dying, and then getting caught up in some damn conspiracy with no real end in sight."
She leaned closer, her voice soft but steady. "Well, you aren't exactly normal," she said, sliding closer to him and putting her arm through his resting on the table. You're a fighter; you love it. You'd probably jump off a cliff if no one were actually shooting at you." Martin blinked as he shrugged, clearing his throat. "Yeah, probably."
Martin turned his gaze away from the bright lights and bustling casino floor to look at her, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Maybe that's part of the problem," he muttered, the faintest trace of a smirk still lingering. "You ever wonder what it would've been like to just… live a simple life?"
Athria let out a quiet laugh, her eyes fixed on his. "You? A simple life? Martin, please. You'd be miserable within a week." He chuckled, a low, cynical sound. "Probably, the first few hours" he admitted, taking a sip from his drink. "I'd end up finding trouble no matter where I went. Maybe it's just part of the deal, the cost of breathing." His gaze drifted over her as he spoke, like he was weighing something unsaid.
She tilted her head, her voice softening. "You don't really believe that, do you? That you're just… meant for this? You can choose more than just… this, you know."
He shrugged, eyes moving back to the game tables. "Survival's about all I've been good at. 'More' feels like a damn luxury at this point." He paused, the memories quickly flashed over him. "When you're used to dancing with death, 'more' starts feeling like a dangerous thing to reach for." Athria reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his hand. "Maybe you just haven't given it a fair shot."
He looked down at her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch against his skin. He didn't pull away. Instead, he allowed himself a rare moment as goosebumps and tingle formed on the back of his neck. "It's… not that easy," he admitted. "Not when everything around you has trained you to expect that 'more' gets taken from you. Or that it comes with chains."
She leaned closer, her gaze unrelenting. "Martin, chains only hold if you let them. You break free of one, and sure, there's another waiting. But that doesn't mean you stop fighting, and you of all people know that… You're too stubborn not to know."
Martin finished his drink and set the empty glass down, smirking as he looked over at Athria. "Come on, let's keep moving," she said, giving his arm a gentle pat.
"Yes, ma'am," he joked, pushing himself up from the booth.
They made their way back into the crowd, the casino fading behind them as they blended into the bustling Strip. Athria stayed close, but Martin caught her glancing over her shoulder a few times, her eyes scanning the crowd. He leaned in, his voice low but calm. "Don't do that. Just act normal."
She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, but he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer. "Relax," he murmured. "If you're too tense, you'll miss the details." Athria smirked. "I think you're just finding excuses to touch me." Martin chuckled. "Ha, like I need an excuse anymore."
As they continued weaving through the crowd, he guided her down a narrow side alley, a shortcut that would lead them across the throughway to the other side of the Strip. The noise of the main streets dulled as they entered the dim alley, their footsteps echoing off the walls.
"Perfect spot, Kol…" he muttered under his breath, half to himself.
From behind, a faint rustle caught Martin's attention. He stopped, his hand subtly tightening around Athria's waist. She stopped with him, turning her head in the direction of the noise. "Spectre Kol," Martin called, raising his hands in a show of peace. "Just wanna talk."
The air shimmered, and a tall, slender figure materialized a few paces behind them—the Salarian Spectre, Kol. His weapon was drawn but held low, a wary look in his eyes as he observed them. "Talk? You?" Kol replied, his voice cold and skeptical. "Strange."
Martin maintained his posture, not moving, but he slowly shifted his stance to position himself between Kol and Athria. "Yeah, talk. Thought you might be interested," Martin said, his voice calm, assessing Kol's every twitch.
Kol narrowed his gaze, clearly still irked from their last encounter. "I don't appreciate being toyed with, Winters. Do you know the position you're in?" Martin's smirk didn't waver. "Believe me, Kol, I know my position all too well. And you know what? It's starting to look like I'm not the only one in a tricky spot."
Kol's expression remained unreadable, but his grip on his weapon tightened. "You think you're clever, don't you? Making a spectacle of yourself, leading us on a chase. But I'm not here for your games."
"Not games, Kol," Martin replied, his tone growing serious. "I need to talk to someone who actually thinks. Figured you might be the smartest one of the bunch." Kol's brow raised slightly, though he didn't relax his stance. "Flattery won't get you far, Winters."
"It's not flattery," Martin said. "I've seen how Vyras operates, and Nira. She's got a temper that makes her reckless. You, though… you're different. You actually pay attention. And if you're paying attention, you know something's off."
Kol's eyes flickered, a hint of curiosity breaking through his steely demeanor. "What exactly are you suggesting, Winters?" Athria stepped forward, her gaze locked on Kol. "He's saying you're being used, Kol. Just like he is. Whatever story you've been fed, it's not the full picture."
Kol looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "And you expect me to believe you? The two of you are on the run, hunted. That doesn't exactly inspire trust."
"Look," Martin interjected, "this isn't some ideology we're spouting. I'm talking about something political. The Council isn't after me because I'm a rogue or some loose cannon. They're using me as a pawn."
Kol's expression didn't soften, but there was a faint glint of suspicion in his eyes, a sign that their words were beginning to chip away at his certainty. "You're saying this is all some… Council conspiracy?"
"Not just the Council," Athria said, her voice firm. "There's more to this. A Turian Colonel tried to use Martin to start a war with humanity. It was covered up, buried by the Turian government, but the mess left behind… it didn't just disappear."
"Hell it might not even be the Council's fault directly, could just be the Turians making moves." Martin added. Kol's gaze shifted to him, and Martin could see the subtle shift in his posture. "A war… over you?" he asked, his tone skeptical but curious.
Athria nodded. "The Colonel wanted to incite a response, to spark a conflict that would give the Turian government a reason to crack down on humanity. And when things didn't go his way, they tried to erase every trace of what happened."
"The Colonel thought I was an Alliance operator, Kinda like your STG or spies or something. He thought the Cerberus story was a cover the Alliance created to give distance. He was a little… wrong." Martin explained.
Kol's face hardened, and for a moment, he was silent, processing the information. He lowered his weapon slightly, though his gaze remained sharp. "If what you're saying is true, then why are you involved, Athria? You were a Commando, not some mercenary. Why risk everything for him?"
Athria's expression softened, but she didn't waver. "Because this isn't just about Martin. It's about a cover-up; this is a twisted game where people like us are used and discarded without a second thought. And I… I believe him. I've seen enough to know there's something bigger going on here."
Kol's eyes darted between them, skepticism still running across his face. "And you? You two… are you just allies, or is there more to this?"
Martin rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly. "Oh, come on, Kol. We're talking about conspiracy and cover-ups, and you're interested in our… sex life?" Kol shrugged, unfazed. "Emotional ties can cloud judgment. I need to know if this is just a mission for you, or if there's… emotional involvement." Athria interjected. "Does it matter? My reasons don't change the facts. Martin's been hunted, beaten, and nearly killed by your people for things he didn't do. And if you actually care about justice, you'll listen."
Kol fell silent, his gaze shifting to the ground as he processed her words. There was a hesitation in his stance, a crack in the armor of certainty he'd carried since their chase began. Finally, he looked back up, his voice quieter, almost introspective.
"I'll admit… some things haven't added up," Kol murmured. "But you need to understand, I'm a Spectre. My loyalty lies with the Council."
Martin stepped forward. "And what if the Council's wrong, Kol? What if they're manipulating the situation like they tried to manipulate me? You think they care about the truth? They care about control. Power. They care about keeping people like us in line." Kol looked up at him, a flicker of conflict in his eyes. "You're suggesting I betray the very institution I've dedicated my life to."
"I'm suggesting you think for yourself," Martin replied, his voice hard and unyielding. "You're smart enough to know when something doesn't make sense. And if you're really as loyal to the truth as you claim, you'll help us figure out what's going on."
There was a long pause as Kol stood there, visibly wrestling with his thoughts. His gaze shifted to Athria, then back to Martin, a mixture of anger, confusion, and reluctant curiosity written on his face.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll… look into it. But don't think this makes us allies. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because if there's any truth to your claims, then something is deeply wrong within the Council."
Martin smirked, nodding slightly. "That's all I needed to hear." Kol looked at him with a mix of frustration and grudging respect, his gaze lingering on Martin for a moment before he turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the alley. Athria watched him go, her expression steady. She turned to Martin, a hint of relief mixed with unease in her eyes. "Do you think he'll actually help?" Martin shrugged, his smirk fading into a serious expression. "I think he's curious enough to dig. And right now, that's all we need."
They stood there in the alley for a moment as they both collected themselves. "Alright." Martin said. "Now what?" Athria looked over at him as she began to walk out of the alley. "Gamble?" she said teased.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Nira was fuming. She'd been combing through the dingiest parts of the lower wards for days, practically turning over every last rock and still—nothing. No sign of that damned human or his Asari leash, not a single trace. And as if her own frustration wasn't enough, Kol hadn't checked in for over a day now. Probably wasted his time following some dead-end lead in the more "sophisticated" parts of the Citadel. Typical Salarian. Always with his head jammed full of thoughts, yet somehow not one useful idea between them.
When Kol's line went dark, Vyras had finally decided to dispatch her to his location, supposedly for an "update." She snorted at the thought, gunning the skycar a bit faster than regulation allowed. Vyras might not admit it, but she was pretty damn sure he'd sent her because he knew she wouldn't be above grabbing Kol by his scrawny shoulders and shaking some answers out of him.
She set her skycar down on the Silver Strip, glancing around as she powered down the engine. Flashing lights, people milling about in every direction, the whole damn place stank of easy credits and phony charm. And amidst the holographic displays and neon-lit storefronts, there was Kol, weaving through the crowds like he was late for some damn book club meeting.
Nira stormed over, catching up to him as he slowed near the edge of the Strip. She noticed the way he barely glanced over at her, as if he hadn't just been in the middle of a manhunt that was spiraling spectacularly out of control.
"Kol!" she snapped, finally getting his attention. She crossed her arms, her gaze like a razor. "You haven't checked in since yesterday. We're supposed to be working together, you know, in case you forgot that."
Kol blinked, barely meeting her eyes, and offered a polite nod, his expression distant. "Apologies, Nira. I was… preoccupied."
"Preoccupied?" She nearly spat the word, stepping closer until there was barely a gap between them. "We're not on some damn school field trip. We're hunting a target that's made all three of us look like idiots, and you're here 'preoccupied'? Give me a break."
Kol's expression remained irritatingly neutral. His rapid-fire speech felt even more clipped than usual. "Martin isn't here, Nira. I was mistaken in my hypothesis. He isn't in the Silver Strip. I… miscalculated."
Nira squinted, catching a hint of something in his tone, a layer she couldn't quite peel back. "You miscalculated?" she repeated, folding her arms tighter across her chest. "Since when do you admit to mistakes, Kol?"
The Salarian shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from her as if he was searching for an escape. "There's a first time for everything," he muttered quickly. "Martin Winters isn't here. I would advise we focus our efforts elsewhere."
"Hold on," she said, grabbing his arm with a grip that made it clear she wasn't done. "You're acting off. Are you hiding something, Kol? If you're holding back information—"
"Not holding back anything," Kol interrupted, yanking his arm from her grip with an almost uncharacteristic firmness. He spoke quickly, his words tumbling over each other in that precise, rapid way of his. "There's nothing to hold back because there's nothing here. Martin isn't here. I'm wasting time, we're all wasting time, and I was… mistaken in my initial assumption. Vyras assigned you here for no reason."
Nira glared at him, narrowing her gaze as she scanned his face, the flicker of something she couldn't quite read. The words were perfectly rehearsed, every syllable in place like a line he'd practiced. And yet, somehow, it felt like Kol was hiding behind his own words.
"Since when does the Council's precious Salarian genius give up that easy?" she sneered, trying to prod him. "Since when do you roll over and accept you were wrong?"
Kol stared back at her, his eyes giving away nothing. "I was wrong, Nira. Winters isn't here. You can go back to… wherever Vyras sent you next. I'll manage my own leads." His voice held that infuriatingly calm, detached tone she hated.
"Kol," she warned, stepping in close enough that their faces were nearly level. "If you're lying to me, I swear to the goddess, I'll make sure you regret it."
He just shook his head, his expression finally cracking, showing a hint of exasperation. "There is no need to threaten me, Nira. You're looking in the wrong place."
She watched him, still unconvinced, but Kol's gaze was steady, meeting hers without the slightest falter.
"Fine," she finally said, letting out a huff of frustration as she stepped back. "But if I find out you've been playing some Salarian game with me…" She left the threat hanging as she turned on her heel, already cursing under her breath.
Nira stomped back to her skycar, her jaw clenched in fury. She didn't believe Kol for a second, and she wasn't about to let him know that. She didn't need him clamming up or, worse, running back to Vyras if she put too much pressure on him now. She reached her skycar and slipped in, taking off from the Silver Strip in a smooth, quiet ascent. But instead of leaving, she doubled back, scanning the area and finally landing on a low-rise building just off the main strip.
Kol admitting he was wrong… She scoffed to herself. That alone was as big a red flag as any. He never owned up to mistakes, always quick to dance around them or deflect, spinning every error into some sort of clever strategy. No, there was something else happening here—had to be. He was hiding something, or worse, working against her. And that, she thought with a grim smile, would make it personal. If she found out he was covering for the human and his Asari tagalong, she'd kill him herself, protocol be damned.
She moved quickly, parking the skycar and cutting through the building's side stairwell, descending to ground level. As she reached the bustling floor of the Silver Strip, the noise hit her. A cacophony of music, voices, and flashing lights blurring in her periphery. But her focus was sharp. If Martin Winters and his little partner thought they'd waltz around here unnoticed, they'd underestimated her. Stupid move, human, she thought with a sneer.
Pushing her way through the crowd, she mentally mapped the entrances and exits of each building. Nira wasn't one for patience, but she could do methodical when she had to. If she couldn't pick up their trail here, she'd tear through every lead, every shadow they might be hiding in, until she got what she wanted. And if Kol turned out to be standing in her way, well, that would be his last mistake.
