The guards froze in the doorway. Yona's body lay crumpled on the tile, throat opened, blood already cooling beneath her. Daniella stood over her, knife still in hand, posture calm. For a heartbeat no one spoke. Then the senior guard cursed under his breath and reached for his radio. "Get Mateo. Now."
Mateo arrived within minutes, moving through the crowd of stunned guards like a man who had seen worse. He took in the scene without flinching—body, blood, Daniella's steady gaze—then gave a single nod. "Let's go," he said, voice low and even. He stretched out his hand, directing her out of the bathroom as the guards cleared the hallway ahead. "I'll find you something to change into."
"What about the body?" Daniella asked, stepping over the threshold without looking back. Her tone was quiet, but worry sat underneath. One dead woman, one powerful family that could strike back at any moment.
"We will handle that," Mateo replied. Nothing more.
