[b]Milo[/b] fumbled for the key so quickly he nearly dropped it twice. Under Marcus’s glare and Elora’s reminder of Big Dom’s preferred method of justice, whatever loyalty coin had bought him began leaking out through his pores.

[color=00aeef]“I do not know who he is,”[/color] [b]Milo[/b] stammered, kneeling by Bellaflora’s chain. [color=00aeef]“I swear. He called himself Bell. Letters. Wax seals. Cash. Always cash. I was supposed to keep her here until tonight, then hand her over near the old loading spur.”[/color]

The lock clicked open.

[b]Serafina Bellaflora[/b] pulled her ankle free, rose at once, and gave [b]Milo[/b] a look that made the clerk shrink without anyone touching him. She dusted off her racing silks with furious dignity, ears pinned back and tail lashing.

[color=92278f]“Mr. Bell,”[/color] she said sharply, answering Marcus while pointedly refusing to look grateful yet, [color=92278f]“was waiting inside the carriage when I was brought in. Pale gloves. Awful hat. Voice like someone trying to sound older than he was. He knew my route, my schedule, my conditioning hours, and exactly which people in the stable could be bribed or fooled.”[/color]

[b]Milo[/b] flinched.

[b]Serafina [/b]noticed and snapped, [color=92278f]“Yes, I meant you.”[/color]

[b]Piero[/b]’s face had gone flat and dangerous. [color=00a651]“Why take you?”[/color]

[color=92278f]“Because if I vanish, Dom panics. If Dom panics, the odds move. If the odds move, someone makes a fortune.”[/color] Her eyes narrowed. [color=92278f]“And if I miss the Derby, certain sponsors stop losing money on me.”[/color]

[b]Gears[/b] flexed her gauntlets. [color=f26522]“That sounds like a name behind a name.”[/color]

Before anyone could press further, a slow clap echoed from the lane outside.

[b]Milo[/b] went white.

From the front of the service building came a smooth, muffled voice. [color=9e0039]“Very good, Miss Bellaflora. I was told you were quick.”[/color]

Figures moved beyond the cracked doorway. Four men in dark coats stepped into view, each with the tidy posture of hired muscle and the hard eyes of men paid enough not to ask questions. Two carried short clubs. One held a compact pistol low at his side. The last had a hooked knife and a smile with no humor in it.

Behind them stood [b]Mr. Bell[/b].

Tall. Dark coat. Pale gloves. Hat low. Exactly as described, and yet somehow still too deliberate to feel real.

[b]Piero[/b] drew his weapon at last.

[b]Gears[/b]’ grin vanished into something better suited for breaking doors.

[b]Serafina[/b]’s nostrils flared. [color=92278f]“You.”[/color]

[b]Mr. Bell[/b] tilted his head. [color=9e0039]“Me.”[/color]

The side lane behind him filled with footsteps, more men cutting off the main exit. From the rear,[b] Gears[/b] and [b]Elora[/b]’s position still held the back door, but now the little service room had become a trap with two jaws.

[b]Mr. Bell[/b] raised one pale-gloved hand.

[color=9e0039]“Kill the clerk if he talks. Take the girl alive. The rest are negotiable.”[/color]

[b]Milo[/b] made a strangled sound.

[b]Serafina[/b] looked at [b]Marcus[/b], [b]Hwicce[/b], [b]Elora[/b], and the others with blazing offense.

[color=92278f]“If any of you let that man ruin my race day,”[/color] she said, [color=92278f]“I will be unbearable.”[/color]

[b]DM Notes[/b]: Currently, all four of Mr. Bell's goons are within a 30ft distance from the party. Mr. Bell is within a 45ft distance.