Destined: The Encounter

By Lady Cheena

“You insure my safety… I’ll insure your answers.” An enemy’s vow uttered on the battlefield creates a crack in Vicenzo’s world that pushes the Spryten warrior to seek the truth – in the arms of his enemy.

So begins the tale of Destined: the Encounter – an action-packed, thriller set in the post-apocalyptic future. When Vicenzo Napoleon captures Morgan the Merciless, the man believed to be his brother's assassin, he learns there's more to the mysterious Messian general than the fact that he's really a woman. She not only sparks his forbidden desires, but raises doubts surrounding his brother’s demise and the stability of both their empires.

However, Morgan must battle her own demons in order to finish her mission: protecting the Destined. But will she let her fears and her own desire for her enemy sabotage her efforts?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781105784859

Book preview

Destined: The Encounter

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I cannot even begin to tell you the journey I have been on bringing you this tale of The Destined. All I know was it started on a sleepless night four or five years ago when the plight of Morgan and Vicenzo invaded my rest. The next day I started writing their story. But even then, it wasn’t until a persistant co-worker (Maritza Franklin a.k.a M. Frank a.k.a Frankie) encouraged me to get their story told – and to everyone. So, for over a year, I blogged their exploits on MySpace until finally I had the courage to say, Damnit, I need to make this happen.

And so, here they are.

I want to thank God for giving me this crazy imagination that has never steered me wrong; my loving husband, Pat, who is my constant muse in whatever I do; to my loving sister and parents for all their support; my reason-for-geting-up-in-the-morning son, Ockie, for whom I do this for; and to my dearest and most trusted confidante, M. Frank. This one’s for you, Frankie!

Chapter 1: The Eye of the Enemy

Feel it comin' in the air. Hear the screams from everywhere. I'm addicted to the thrill. It's a dangerous love affair. –Run this Town, Jay-Z, Rihanna, and Kanye West

Smoke filled the air. Blasts shattered dirt and debris to all four corners of the battlefield. The Spryten army was losing a harsh battle to their enemies, despite having the bigger tanks, the bigger weapons. By some miracle the enemy was immune to their onslaught and was cutting their numbers by the second.

Vicenzo Napoleon, General of the Spryten Special Armed Forces and heir-apparent to the throne, watched the grisly scene from his groundrunner. He kept his eyes scanning the field looking for one particular combatant. It was rumored that Morgan the Merciless would make an appearance today.

It was no secret that Vicenzo sought revenge from the infamous Messian general. He wanted to nail Morgan’s sorry ass to the wall for what he had done to his older brother, Victoro. It had nearly killed him when he had received word that his brother’s convoy had been attacked, and all had died under Morgan’s blade.

One survivor, a soldier, who had later succumbed to his wounds, had described the ambush like black hell raining down on them. The Messian guerillas had been merciless in their attack. He hadn’t even remembered weapons being used; just men swooping down, flying through the air, slitting throats left and right. The man had vividly described Morgan the Merciless as a tall visage in all black, complete with an inscribed titanium mask to shield his identity but not the vicious glint of his trademark, umber eyes.

This vile beast had dealt the killing blow to Victoro.

His brother had put up a good fight against the general. At one point, it seemed Victoro had the upper hand. Only, Morgan had been playing him, and Victoro had fallen for it. As if by magic, the ruthless general had blocked Victoro’s shot, then, just as swiftly, plunged his scimitar straight through his brother, killing him instantly. How could Morgan have blocked a shot from an L-gun? Vicenzo questioned even now. A soldier would need specially made armor to withstand it, and as far as they knew, Messians didn’t.

This vision and these questions woke Vicenzo up night after night. Despite not being there, he could feel every inch of that vicious steel slice through his brother as if through him. It was the reason he thirsted for his blood. The reason he had made it his mission to learn all he could about Morgan the Merciless. He spent the last year interviewing soldiers who had encountered the specter head on in battle. He read and watched every news piece on the bastard. They’d described him like a ravenous falcon; a rogue ninja. He never used modern weapons, just that serrated scimitar, which had a special name: El-Mar’s Vengeance, or EV, for short.

One soldier recalled hearing Morgan crying out its name, commanding it to slice and sever. Another soldier mentioned seeing Morgan fling a bevy of bladed stars, mowing down several soldiers including a commanding officer. When they’d completed their task, Morgan had retrieved all but one with a simple flick of his hand. This abandoned blade, which the soldier had given Vicenzo, sat around his neck now like a keepsake.

Every so often, he found himself studying it as if trying to will Morgan to him. It was a solid circle of worn titanium with six jagged blades that extended and retracted. While retracted, it looked like a simple pendant, but once the circle was clicked it extended into the long blades that could easily sever fingers, wrists or slit a throat when properly thrown. It was a deadly little trinket, which made Vicenzo all the more determined to capture the sadistic bastard.

Sir! They’re coming over the horizon! a voice called from the field, waking him from his daydream.

Vicenzo glared through his darkened visor at the dark, dust cloud swirling in the distance. It was consuming L-gun blasts and tossing men clear across the field in its wake. Restless, he kicked his groundrunner into gear and drove right toward the storm.

The screams grew louder as he drew closer to the source. There was the motherfucker now surrounded by his troops, the Black Sandstorm-12. The name suited them well since a dark sand cloud always preceded them in battles. Vicenzo raised his own L-gun, firing blast beams into the cloud. It was imperative that they capture General Morgan and his BS-12s alive, much to his disgust.

The Spryten Royal Court had demanded that the criminals be delivered into their hands, so justice could be handed down. Vicenzo grudgingly complied with his Court’s wishes, but his desire was to stomp this motherfucker cold.

I need men behind these bastards, he called into his communicator. I want them boxed in!

Cenz, you know that’s damn near impossible! The response came in from his second in command, Aries Forte. The last time we tried the Pen Tactic we limped away from the fight with barely half our men.

This time I need them to increase the power on the L-guns from stun to neuro-shock. Shut down their internal systems and they’ll drop like flies.

It could also kill them.

What the fuck do I care?

You care, Aries chuckled into the communicator. Your father makes you care.

That’s his political game, not mine!

Yeah, but that’s what’s kept his court in check all these years.

Vicenzo did not respond. His old friend was right. His father made sure his court got to see all the blood and gore of war to show them how rich he wore his power. Captured Messian rebels were touted out before court and executed in lavish ceremonies. Some soldiers would bring back rebel organs to the delight of the Royals, weaving elaborate stories of how they were killed.

Vicenzo hated the political machine his father thrived in. His brother had been enchanted by it. But he had taken after his grandfather. He was a warrior not a politician. Fight the Fight. Regain the Right. That had been his grandfather’s motto. The Right was regaining respect due them from broken treaties with the Messians. However, his father used the war now to greedily gain land and more power rather than defend their honor. Something Vicenzo had despised. But the Messians were not easy to topple. This war was in its third century with no signs of stopping anytime soon, which didn’t bother Vicenzo, since he was a man of war.

Don’t leave any room for those bastards to move!

On the other side of the field, Morgan and the Imperial Elite raced toward the Sprytens on their specially engineered bionic chargers. They had received word on the soldiers’ location just outside a Spryten hood from an inside source and had been patiently waiting for them to arrive. Over the last year, they’d had no good chances of getting inside and this plan needed to go off without a hitch, especially since the Fate was growing concerned over their whereabouts.

I cannot believe this is the only way, Vollo Vartaine grumbled. Do you know how fucked up this is?

Look, I don’t like this plan either, but we’re going to have to make this sacrifice, Morgan replied, focusing on the soldiers before them. The Fate made this order over a year ago. We need to make the move now or our window will close forever.

It’s not like we weren’t expecting this, Vollo, Nginzah Marsaun added, slicing into a Spryten. Besides, Morgan’s the one who’s getting the raw end of the deal. Sorry, boss.

Fuck you, Ginz, Morgan growled, tossing off another soldier. We’re all gonna be screwed on this deal. Everyone, ‘cept you.

Yeah, you get to be OC on this one, Vollo added.

That’s ‘cause they have a real issue with bitches in power, Ginz replied with a chuckle. Good luck, Morgan.

Again, fuck you, Ginz. An unseen smile spread beneath the titanium mask.

With pleasure… sir. Ginz’s teasing laugh followed her as both she and Vollo separated from their leader.

Morgan paused, staring into the fray. He was here somewhere, his trace signature was strong. Napoleon had been tracking them for quite some time and Morgan had learned his signature early on. It was hostile. Unquenchable. The Spryten’s animosity toward Morgan had been so strong it resounded through the field.

The general switched to stealth mode. Target has been sighted. Proceed to Phase II: Separation.

Yes, General Morgan, the response came from the team as one.

Run Operation: Box Break and then Operation: Corral.

On command, the Messians’ formation changed. Working individually, they began sifting major groups further back on the field, leaving the two generals a wide berth. It was their hope that the Spryten general would take the bait and follow Morgan, but he was an unpredictable adversary.

Oooh, he looks mad, Vollo observed, absorbing a blast. You sure you want to face him alone?

Trust me; I’d rather stare down a barrage of neuro-pulsers.

At least we know you can survive that, Ginz added, blasting down another soldier.

Yeah, but they don’t. Back to work, ladies.

Good luck, sir. Vollo cleared the final block, while Ginz handled the other side.

The Empire’s Finest are with you.

With that reassurance firm in place, Morgan barreled straight ahead toward the Spryten general.

What the fuck are they doing? Vicenzo sneered to himself.

Having heard the general, a solider was quick to explain. Sir, it’s like they’re leaving their general out in the open. This is highly irregular on their part.

I don’t care what it is, pen those motherfuckers in. This is our only chance to capture them as a unit.

Yes, sir!

Vicenzo had a clear view of Morgan now. He sat upon his horse with black sand coating his uniform. He was outfitted in a long, black coat that morphed with the armor on the charger. His hands were wrapped in titanium-infused leather with talons reinforced in the fingertips that glinted fiercely against what little sun shined through the clouds. His face was completely covered by the inscribed titanium mask, which no Spyrten scholar could translate. A barrage of thick plaits laid across his shoulders and down his back adding to the sinister image. All signs of life seemed non-existent except for the swirls of mist escaping the nostril holes. Vicenzo so wanted to rip off that mask and drive his machete deep into his neck. His chance was coming. He could taste it.

I think it’s time to tame the bull, Morgan announced, charging on.

If he wants to fucking do this, then let’s fucking do this! Vicenzo growled, revving his groundrunner.

The two combatants were on a collision course. If Morgan’s men could hold the space long enough, it was on the general to lead the bait out. The eye of the storm was closing and it was a matter of seconds before the shit hit the fan.

Chapter 2: Chaotic Encounter

Better duck ‘cause it’s comin’! –Massive Attack, Nick Minaj

As quickly as the space had opened up, it had vanished, forcing Vicenzo to follow Morgan out of the ring; disregarding the voices in his helmet warning him not to give chase. As Aries had predicted, Morgan’s men had inverted their own tactic against them. Now, Vicenzo’s men fought desperately to get out, while the general’s demons sliced them to shreds. Vicenzo hated to admit it, but he was jealous of their quick wit and cunning. They were a force not to be fucked with, if you hoped to survive. The wound stung further when Morgan slipped passed him, unscathed, into the depths of the surrounding forest.

As his charger dodged the undergrowth, scattering brown and gray leaves all about, Vicenzo glared into his back, wishing a branch would fall on him. His killing rage had been sparked; the kind that clouded his usually clear judgment. How could that bastard make such an entrance and exit without as much as a scratch? How could his men not have fired off one shot to numb him? He would’ve taken the slip better if Morgan’s gravelly voice wasn’t still burning in his ear, rattling like the worst taunt.

Is the little boy having a tantrum? Are we breaking your toy soldiers?

Like a starving wolf with a fat rabbit a bite away, he was relentless. He needed to catch the general to satisfy this hunger. As the forest unwrapped before him into another valley, the battle behind them could barely be heard now over the drone of his groundrunner. The valley was quiet, secluded; the perfect place to lay Morgan out. Having reached it first, Morgan stood up on his charger with the grace and precision of a circus performer. The horse, understanding his silent command, swiftly turned around, halting its full gallop to present Morgan head on. Vicenzo – not far behind – continued to send his groundrunner straight for him.

As he drew closer, Morgan crouched down sending the stallion in motion. His knees folded together right down to his ankles forming one sleek silhouette; his long, war coat billowing behind him like a black sail. The mask glinted against the light as it passed behind the ominous, thundering clouds. His gloved talons gripped the saddle, steadying him. Their complete focus blocked everything around them. Determined to hit his mark this time, Vicenzo raised his L-gun, adjusting the calibration.

This motherfucker is gonna feel this in his grave.

Before he could let off a shot, lightning clashed the skies, blinding him for a mere second, giving Morgan the time needed to jump forward. As Vicenzo slammed back against the seat, a sharp, biting pain dug into his shoulders, causing him to gnash his teeth with a grunt. Using the momentum, Morgan dragged his rival over his head and off the groundrunner to the dried, craggy grass, pinning him.

If you plan to face me, face me like a man, Morgan sneered in a low gravelly voice. Leave the toys at home.

Vicenzo kicked off his opponent and rose with a wince for his shoulders. Don’t worry. I got two man-made weapons just waiting to snap your neck.

A cold laugh reverberated from behind the titanium mask as Morgan crouched into a defensive Crane pose. Let’s see how they hold up.

Like an enraged bull, Vicenzo slammed his armored fists toward Morgan in rapid succession, only to have his enemy duck and dodge his efforts seamlessly. Morgan came back with a knee to the Spryten’s chin and then a fisted claw to his stomach armor. Vicenzo stumbled back to quickly assess the damage. A large dent pierced his gray fight suit, which caused Vicenzo only a momentary surprise. This armor was supposed to withstand a nuclear bomb explosion, yet with just a simple twist of the wrist Morgan had ripped a fist-sized hole in it. Anger quickly replaced his surprise.

It seems you’ve heard stories about me, General Napoleon.

By the look of this dent in my armor, the rumors must be true, Vicenzo calmly replied, resetting his fighting stance.

You shouldn’t always believe what’s been reported to you. The demon general countered, deflecting the fist with a kick to his ribs.

And why is that? He caught Morgan in a grapple, tossing him aside.

A glint of light pierced through the eyelet holes in the mask, drawing Vicenzo’s notice. They shined like a pool of umber; a topaz gem encased in titanium. They were warm yet steely and in control with the smallest hint of mischievousness. This jarred him. He was toying with him.

Morgan took advantage of his distraction by doing a full kick to his helmet, which promptly fell to the ground under impact, rolling a good couple of yards away. Long, heavy black dreads spilled down Vicenzo’s back like cat-o’-nines. The mane surrounded a strong, dark chocolate face covered with a neatly trimmed, but thick beard. His eyes a blackened brown shade framed by thick slanted brows glared back at the general viciously. A look suited to a Messian, yet foreign on a Spryten.

My, my, my, aren’t we a pretty boy? Morgan chuckled.

Thoroughly pissed now, Vicenzo charged the general. This time he was prepared for his tricks. As Morgan went to duck his onslaught, Vicenzo dove for his legs instead, knocking them both to the ground. Not wasting any time, he pounded his fists into the titanium mask, determined to rip it from Morgan’s face. He continued pounding, trying to smash it into a mass of skin, brain and blood, but he failed to notice that his punches were barely causing a scratch, much less a dent. 

Thinking Morgan had fallen unconscious Vicenzo laced his fingers under the mask. He would finally see the devil’s face. But, having played possum long enough, Morgan wedged upwards throwing Vicenzo off balance. This allowed for Morgan’s knees to connect solidly with his unprotected midsection. Despite the mask’s protection, Morgan had felt every knuckle and scrape; just not as badly as the general had thought; not enough to knock him out anyway.

How long do I have? This bastard wants blood.

Silence.

Ginz, how long do I have?

Still, there was no answer.

Morgan did a quick mental scan of the field where the troops had been left. What greeted the general was an eerie silence? No trace signatures. No mental blips. This could only mean one thing.

Fuck, Ginz, tell me you’re still mobile.

Through a fuzzy fog Morgan heard the second-in-command. Morgan, the operation may be compromised.

Talk to me, Ginz.

Apparently, they got a new toy we haven’t heard about. I’ve got no intelligence about it. Fortunately, no one’s dead as far as I can tell, but they’ve been paralyzed temporarily, the lieutenant explained breathlessly. I’ve been watching the Sprytens move the troops into transport vehicles. I was able to roll out the way when it rumbled through, but, Morgan, this is not your normal L-gun.

Shit! Hightail it to a hiding place. I’ve got to move fast.

Be safe. No telling if he’s packing it too.

Morgan turned to Vicenzo, who worked to invert the piece of armor bruising his ribs. The two warriors were wearing down. However, Morgan needed to insure that the plan would continue itself despite being taken off line. Stepping forward, swaying from the recent assault, the general squared off against his Spryten counterpart.

You don’t realize the danger that you’re truly in, Morgan began elusively.

What the fuck are you talking about? Vicenzo gritted out finally alleviating the armor from his now bleeding side.

I wonder if you were allowed to see your brother’s body.

Vicenzo could feel his rage rise again. Why?

Morgan started to circle him. Then I’d wonder if all the blame could truly be placed at my feet.

It was your handy work, alright. Right down to the bite marks from your scimitar.

And who provided you with such fine information? Morgan pushed.

Who do you think? The attending doctors on the battlefield, a soldier who witnessed your treach.

A laugh rumbled from Morgan as he closed in. And what makes their words ring true, if you never saw the proof?

All the witnesses had attested to your presence on the field.

And I have witnesses attesting I wasn’t, namely the Spryten soldiers I defeated that very day, Morgan tossed in return. Including a Royal. Now what?

Vicenzo stepped forward his anger brimming to the top, but with it his doubts. Morgan stepped even closer. Didn’t you even doubt your brother’s unfortunate mishap with me? How or why would I ever have met your brother on the battlefield if he wasn’t a soldier? It would’ve been you I’d more easily meet than him. Why would I need to eliminate him? And lastly, aren’t these the same doubts running through your mind – even now?

Vicenzo glared at the nearing Morgan, processing the questions. He was so close that if he reached out his hand he could wrap it around his neck easily. But other things drew his immediate notice. Morgan was a whole head shorter than him and, despite the bulky overcoat, his frame was very nimble, athletic even. Based on the intel, Morgan should be a hulking beast with bulging muscles, standing eight-feet tall. But now, seeing him up close, his original doubts surfaced more strongly. Even though Morgan was a skilled fighter, Victoro should’ve been able to take him, at least enough to stay alive.

I see you have your doubts surfacing again, Morgan observed, standing a hair’s breath away now.

Vicenzo did have doubts. He’d never questioned the doctors’ findings since he trusted they’d never lie about something as important as a royal’s autopsy. However, Morgan’s newest assault sparked old feelings about the assassination of the Heroic Seven nearly seven years ago. This had been the reason his father made it imperative to capture Morgan, to stop him from repeating his treachery. His father had ingrained the notion that Victoro’s death was directly related to their lax persecution of Morgan the Merciless for his earlier crimes.

From the start, Morgan had been named as Victoro’s killer and that was all Vicenzo had needed to avenge him. However, the need for truth kept nagging at him. What would the Messians gain by assassinating Victoro, despite his being the next in line for the throne? Even though Morgan was a known killer with one war crime behind him already, could he be capable of another?  The demon general seemed to take credit for any wrong doings he had done, why not this one? He had to admit grudgingly Morgan was the only one to answer these questions.

And do you have my answers? Vicenzo ventured easing his guard slightly.

I may be able to fill in some holes. The question is: are you willing to hear them?

Morgan could see the wheels turning in his head. He was actually considering it. Just as he was about to latch onto his wrist, a flash caught his eye. Morgan recognized the blast immediately. Checking the signature, Vicenzo’s troops had caught up to them. Fuck, he swore to himself before shoving him to the ground, Get down!

Vicenzo turned his head. What the f—

Morgan barely dodged the blast himself as it whizzed by them. Shaking his head in annoyance, he turned to escape. Vicenzo lay stunned, registering that the general had just saved him from being blasted in the back by his own men. Seeing him race for the charger, Vicenzo jumped to action. Morgan was mounting the stallion when Vicenzo took hold of his collar, flinging him backward. Undaunted, Morgan leaped back onto his feet, then quickly crouch kicked his rival, who just as easily dodged the attack.

Ginz, how long do I have? Morgan demanded, blocking a fist.

Thirty maybe, forty seconds. They are currently aiming the machine your way.

How do I absorb enough of the impact?

If you can reverse your internal pulse to create a small kinetic shield, it may be enough to knock you out, but not enough to paralyze your body, the lieutenant explained. Just know that jolt is gonna hurt the both of you like a motherfucker.

Thanks for the heads up. Proceed with countdown.

Morgan quickly grabbed a hold of Vicenzo’s arm and pulled him forward so they were face to face. You insure my safety, I’ll insure your answers, was all he said before emitting a barrage of images into Vicenzo’s mind; one being his brother standing with a woman on a smoking field, staring at him.

Morgan turned back to see a wall of electricity bearing down on them like a net. Glancing back at the Spryten warrior, he could tell he was still dazed by the images he had seen, but soon, Vicenzo was staring with surprise at the same electric wall. Could the general be in the dark about this new technology? Morgan didn’t have time to ponder the question as the first waves of the electron pulse ran through his body.

On impact, the two combatants were tossed clear across the field from one another, causing the startled charger to race away leaving his owner to the troops barring down on him. Morgan could see the cloudy sky above, trying his hardest to stay as conscious as possible. He was just starting to rise when he felt another blast jolt him, shorting his body and blacking him out.

Fate, guide me.

Chapter 3: Unveiling

I disobeyed the law. Make sure you frisk me good. Check my panties and my bra. –Rockstar 101, Rihanna

Check his vitals.

A persistent beep resounded.

Take off his armor.

A clamor of metal on metal twanged.

How deep is that wound?

Vicenzo could hear voices and the sounds of activity floating around him. He could feel their hands removing his heavy battle armor, relieving some of the pressure from his side. The sound of medical techs coming and going out of his room faded in and out of his consciousness. His skin was tingling like a thousand little bolts had charged through his body. How did he get back in the mobile base so quickly?

General Napoleon, can you hear me? a familiar voice inquired filling his eyes with stinging light.

Vicenzo raised his hand to block it. Fine. What happened?

It seems you got caught in the crossfire when the troops tried to take down Morgan, the voice explained.

At the mention of his nemesis’s name, Vicenzo tried sitting up, much to the chagrin of the attending doctor. Crush, where are they holding him? he demanded.

Antoine Crush, lead physician for the royal family, tsked loudly at his patient. He had known the man since he was a little boy toddling alongside his grandfather. There was not much that could take Vicenzo down. No matter the wound, Vicenzo always bounced back quickly and fully. He had witnessed it first hand, having followed the battles on the mobile base vid-screens. Now, after spending the last twenty minutes trying to resuscitate him from his wounds, Vicenzo’s only concern was where they’d stowed that Messian beast. Amazing.

Forte has him held up in the hold, awaiting your orders, Crush answered, addressing the wound at his side. Seems Morgan the Merciless sustained some damage as well, but we’ve been told not to attend him - yet.

Good, I’ll look over the prisoner and see if attendance is needed, he assured, sliding his legs over the side of his bunk to rise. No need to waste our medicine on him.

Crush had it on the tip of his tongue to admonish his patient for leaving his bed, but saw there was no point. Vicenzo was already slipping out of the rest of his uniform and into a pair of black pants and a tank shirt. Without another word, he promptly marched out the door. The day’s events ran over and over in his mind, particularly Morgan’s last words to him: You insure my safety; I’ll insure your answers. And answers were what he needed - now.

He marched briskly down the hall, passing soldiers tending the armaments and battle suits. He could hear their respectful salutes as he passed them by. As he neared the hold, the door zipped open to reveal Aries stepping out. He was surprised to see his comrade up already, but then he realized his surprise was wasted.

So Crush didn’t put up a fight?

Like he would’ve won, Vicenzo threw back, getting ready to enter.

Aries stood in front of him, halting his entrance. Cenz –

Aries, I know you are not standing in my way? The threat was clear as he stared down his friend.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t, but there’s something I think you should be aware of before you go in there, Aries began, sparking his suspicions.

Is he still breathing?

Yes.

Then that’s all I need to know, he shrugged, shoving his friend aside to enter the room.

Cenz, wait!

But Vicenzo had already made it inside, stopping mid-stride. Morgan was hanging from the ceiling by the wrists, unconscious. The general had been stripped of the Messian-issued long coat and uniform under armor. Long, milk chocolate plaits spilled down a muscular back and draped over lean, defined shoulders, just barely covering a pair of large, rounded breasts. Vicenzo took a second to register the sight. Breasts?

Without missing a beat, he asked, Anyone else see this?

Just the two guards at the doors and I’ve given strict orders to stay mum until I had your orders, Aries replied, adding, I also left the final unveiling to you.

Thanks, Vicenzo uttered absently as he moved toward the hanging body. With that Aries