"Mateo," she asked, almost casually, as though inquiring about some bothersome neighbor rather than the woman who had just tried to stab her, "who is this Yona?"
Mateo had been standing near the door, watching the guards secure the corridor, his expression once more locked into its usual unreadable discipline. At her question he only glanced at her briefly.
"Just a crazed woman," he said.
Nothing more. No elaboration. No explanation. A dismissal so flat it felt deliberate.
Before Daniella could press further, he turned and left with the others. One by one they vacated the bedroom, their presence draining from the room as quickly as it had filled it, until only quiet remained.
But not entirely.
As Daniella's gaze drifted back toward the door she saw them: four guards posted outside, two on either side, motionless and armed. A silent wall of protection, or surveillance. Depending on how one chose to look at it.
She stared for a second, then exhaled.
