It was Scarlet.
She stood slightly apart from the main group, wearing fitted black leather armor that accentuated her dangerous curves.
Her long hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, and her beautiful face wore a serious, focused expression.
Even from this distance, Jake could feel the sharp, calculating aura radiating from her.
She was no longer playing the role of a seductive prostitute.
This was the real Scarlet... cold, professional, and dangerous.
One of the men approached her and bowed.
"Lady Scarlet, there are clear signs of a battle here. We found stained blood, broken trees, and drag marks. It seems like an amateur attempted to clean up the scene not long ago… but we can't find any bodies."
Hearing this, Jake cursed inwardly.
'No shit, sherlock. I'm not a professional crime scene cleaner.'
He hadn't expected them to arrive this quickly.
He pressed himself tighter against the cracked wall, pulling Grace closer.
