Buggy paced back and forth across the wooden floor of the Cross Guild’s headquarters, his heavy boots clicking with each stride. His gloved hands tightened and fell away, over and over, a nervous energy he couldn’t shake. The silence was oppressive — a calm before a storm he hoped would break in his favor.

He turned a corner, muttering under his breath, and then he halted, nearly bumping into a figure that made his pulse spike. Alvida’s officer — someone sworn to him, yet a face he hadn’t expected today — stood there, casually leaning against a stack of crates, a smug expression tugging at her lips.

Buggy’s grip tightened on the handles of his twin daggers as his jaw stiffened. His normally comic demeanor fell away in an instant. “What the hell are you doing here?” he said, his voice dripping with suspicion and disbelief, unable to mask his growing alarm.