Anna sat nestled in the embrace of her favorite armchair, its rich, burgundy upholstery worn soft by years of companionship. Outside the vast window, the vibrant tapestry of Boston unfurled, the city pulsing with the energy of morning. Sunlight streamed through the glass, illuminating the smattering of fine dust that danced lazily in the air, each particle reflecting her own anticipation for the day. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, a warm hug that seeped into her bones and beckoned her to savor the moment.

  She cradled her chipped ceramic mug, taking in the velvety bitterness of the first sip, the warmth radiating from her hands into her soul. Her gaze drifted to the flurry of commuters below—businesspeople in tailored suits darted through the sidewalks like rushing currents, their faces blurring into a sea of haste. The honk of taxis and the distant chatter of street vendors layered over one another, creating an unmistakable symphony of urban life, but Anna felt her heart begin to race for a different reason.

  Phara glided into the room, her presence a whirlwind of determination and lingering concern. She clutched Anna's cell phone like a lifeline, the screen glowing with urgency. “Theo, fix it,” she commanded with a voice that teetered on the edge between resolve and anxiety. Leaning in, Phara brushed a fleeting kiss against Anna’s cheek—a tender whisper amidst a storm—and placed the phone in her trembling hand.

  As Anna switched on the device, a tide of dread washed over her. Countless missed calls blinked back at her, the notifications swirling in a chaotic dance. Yet, one missed call stood out, like a dark cloud on an otherwise clear sky. Her brows knitted together, confusion and unease rippling through her.

  Phara caught the fragile tremor in Anna's expression, concern deepening in her eyes like an ink stain spreading across a page. “What is it?” she asked, her voice softer now, a gentle touch against the edge of Anna's rising anxiety.

  With a heavy sigh that felt like a boulder slipping off her chest, Anna met Phara's gaze. “It’s my sister. She called me all day yesterday, then again last night.” Her voice trembled slightly.

  At her side, Phara leaned closer, eyes narrowed with concern as she reached for Anna’s cell phone, the sleek device stark against the soft, textured upholstery. “Does she normally call that much?” Phara’s voice trembled slightly, betraying an undercurrent of worry that bubbled just below the surface.

  Anna’s gaze sank into the deep, dark swirls of her coffee—a swirling abyss that mirrored her thoughts. “It’s most likely nothing,” she murmured softly, her words hanging in the air like a fragile whisper, searching for solace in the familiar routine of her morning.

  Just then, from the shadows of the bedroom, Theodore emerged, a rumpled figure soon to be revitalized by caffeine. His tousled hair caught the light imperfectly, framing his face in an unruly halo. A hopeful gleam sparkled in his eyes as he joined the unfolding tension. “Just call her back, Anna. It might be important this time,” he urged, leaning closer toward her, his urgency mingling with the aromatic steam that rose from her mug like the restless spirits of a forgotten past.

  Anna lifted her gaze, the weight of indecision clouding the air around them. She peered into Phara's anxious eyes, then shifted her attention to Theodore’s eager expression. “You both don’t know her,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper but filled with an undeniable layer of gravity. Each word dripped with an unspoken history.

  Phara perched delicately on the edge of the chair, her bright eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and determination. Her presence was almost otherworldly, and Anna could feel the tension that crackled in the space between them. “You know all about me and Theodore,” Phara began, her voice soft yet insistent, “but when we mention your sister or anything else from your past, you shut down. Please don’t do that.”

  Theodore, standing protectively close, paused, his expression a calm counterpoint to the charged atmosphere. He placed a gentle hand on Anna’s back, his touch reassuring, as if to say, “I’m here with you. “Phara, maybe we should respect Anna’s wishes,” he said, the warmth of his voice breaking through the tension. “She might be avoiding her sister for a good reason.”

  With a deep breath, Anna felt the weight of their words settle upon her like a heavy cloak. The mention of her sister tugged at the edges of her mind, memories swirling like mist, obscuring truths she wasn't ready to face. She reached for her cell phone, sliding it into her pocket with a deliberate motion that seemingly severed the invisible thread binding her to the painful past.

  “Thank you, Theo,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, though she sensed the unasked questions lingering in the air around them. She appreciated their support, but the fortress she had built to protect her from the shadows of her past felt precarious, teetering on the brink of collapse. The morning sun warmed her skin, yet within, she was suffocated by the chill of unspoken memories, longing to remain in the light while fearing the darkness that loomed just beyond the edges of her consciousness.

  “Your sister also left voicemails,” Phara announced, her voice slicing through the morning air like a sudden gust of wind.

  Anna, cradling her coffee cup as if it were a lifeline, drained the last sip, a bitter aftertaste lingering on her tongue. She stepped away from Theodore and Phara, a movement charged with defiance. “I will listen to them later,” she declared, her tone flat, masking the turmoil brewing beneath her calm fa?ade.

  Phara tilted her head, a flicker of concern shadowing her features. She searched Anna's eyes, unearthing the depths of the pain hidden within. “What did your sister do for you to ignore her this way?”

  Anna’s gaze hardened, an icy shard of resentment slicing through the warmth of the room. For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, thick and palpable, like the heavy fog that often rolled through the city. “She gave away something dear to me,” Anna finally replied, the words escaping her lips like ghosts long imprisoned, now finally freed to haunt her.

  Theodore stepped forward, a soothing presence, grounding the moment. He placed himself between Phara and Anna, a silent mediator caught in the crossfire of unresolved feelings. “Anna, don’t leave angry,” he interjected gently, as if his voice could weave a bridge over the chasm of hurt that had opened between the sisters.

  In a moment both tender and telling, Anna reached out, her fingers brushing softly against Phara's cheek. It was an act of reconciliation, a silent acknowledgement of shared concern wrapped in an ocean of unspoken loyalty. “I know you care. That’s why you pry so much,” she murmured, her voice dropping into a softer cadence, laden with a mixture of gratitude and frustration.

  ***

  Morning light poured through the narrow window of the Boston apartment, bathing the cluttered kitchen in a soft golden hue. The air was thick with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a comforting balm against the cool autumn air that seeped in from the city outside. Anna stood at the sink, the porcelain basin gleaming as she rinsed her coffee mug, its surface beaded with tiny droplets that danced under the light.

  Phara lingered just behind her, urgency glinting like steel in her eyes. In an impulsive motion, she snatched Anna’s cell phone from the pocket of her sister’s sweatpants. “Enough,” she insisted, her voice edged with an intensity that sliced through the morning calm. “Listen to your sister’s message.”

  Behind them, Theodore emerged, a calming presence in his soft plaid shirt, the embodiment of reason in contrast to Phara’s storm. He reached forward and gently reclaimed Anna’s phone from Phara’s grasp, a protective gesture wrapped in unspoken understanding. “This is not the way,” he said, his voice steady, as he handed the device back to Anna, an unguarded flicker of concern washing over his features.

  Anna turned, her brow furrowed with intrigue and irritation. “Why does this mean so much to you?” she asked, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and exasperation as she glanced back at Phara, who was practically vibrating with pent-up energy.

  Phara, held back by Theodore’s firm grip, struggled with a blend of desperation and resolve. “I don’t know,” she admitted, breathless, “but I can feel something is wrong.” There was an intensity in her gaze, a depth that hinted at secrets yet unspoken, as if some unseen force urged her to act, to protect.

  “Like your witchy thing,” Theodore replied, a teasing smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, but even he could sense the gravity of the situation that loomed just beyond the periphery of their everyday lives.

  Phara rolled her eyes, dismissing his jibe as mere banter. “Yes, my witchy thing,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. “Just play the voicemail, Anna.” The pleading in her tone echoed softly against the tiled wall, reverberating with the weight of unasked questions and unheeded warnings, as the moment hung suspended in the air, thick with anticipation.

  Anna, a whirlwind of tension, clutched her cell phone tightly, its cold surface reflecting her fraying patience. She glared at the screen for a moment before relenting, her finger hovering above the keypad. “Fine, I will play it. Just calm down already,” she muttered, exasperation threading through her voice like an unwelcome guest.

  As she pressed the buttons, the room fell into a thick silence, the only sounds being the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft rustling of wind against the windowpanes. Anastasia’s voice emerged from the speaker—a melodic yet haunting lull, “Anna, I know per normal you avoid me. I still don’t see why. I apologized many times, but anyway. My coven is having an issue with something. Please, call when you get this message. As always, I love you, my baby sister.”

  Phara, curiosity ignited, leaned in. “Where is her coven?” Her voice was a murmur, laced with intrigue.

  Anna’s eyes flickered with irritation as they darted towards Phara. “We’re not going. So, why would I tell you?” her words were clipped, but beneath the surface, a storm of emotion brewed—something unspoken, a chasm of hurt too deep to name.

  Theodore, lounging casually against the doorframe, smirked with an air of nonchalance. “It’s in Chicago,” he stated, his voice oozing confidence as if he wielded knowledge that lay just beyond the reach of Anna and Phara.

  Anna erupted, shoving Theodore playfully, the motion betraying a blend of annoyance and familiarity. “Theo, how did you know that?” she demanded, feigning indignation, but the corners of her mouth quirked ever-so-slightly, hinting at their playful rapport.

  In response, Theodore strolled over to a nearby stack of letters, their edges curling slightly, the ink still fresh against the aged cream paper. A collection of correspondence, each lovingly penned, sprawled near Anna’s favorite lounge chair, poised invitingly beneath the window, which framed a vibrant view of the world outside. “She writes you often, as well,” he said, holding up a letter, the script delicate and filled with an ethereal quality that beckoned with whispers of secrets and magic.

  Phara glided over to Anna, her smile bright and infectious, as she wrapped her arms around her friend in a gentle embrace. The air still carried the coolness of dawn, but the atmosphere crackled with an energetic intimacy that only childhood bonds could inspire.

  Anna, with a half-hearted toss, let her cell phone clatter against the counter, the hollow sound echoing in the early hour. She turned her gaze to Theodore, who stood nearby, a playful touch of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I just fixed that for you,” he remarked, feigning indignation, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

  “I am sorry,” Anna murmured, pulling Theodore into the circle of her affection, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll call Anastasia after sunset. You both care so much, sometimes I feel that I am not worthy.” There was a vulnerability in her words, a fleeting shadow that danced across her features.

  Phara leaned in closer, resting her head on Anna’s shoulder, the weight of her support a comforting presence. “We will not give you up that easily,” she reassured, her voice steady like the calm before a storm.

  Theodore glanced at his phone watch, the digital numbers glowing against the backdrop of the soft morning light. “It’s just 8 AM. What shall we do until dusk?” He weighed the time like a treasure, hoping to fill it with laughter and warmth.

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  Phara, ever the tease, playfully shoved Theodore’s chest with a light giggle. “That’s a lot of time. What do you think, Anna?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Anna’s brow furrowed slightly as she contemplated the day ahead. “We can go downstairs to the office, start early on work,” she proposed, glancing from one lover to the other. The tie of responsibility loomed, but so did the promise of the unknown.

  Phara leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Anna’s cheek, the sweet gesture breaking the morning’s tension. “We don’t open normally until 10 AM. If that is what you want to do,” she replied, her playful tone laced with warmth. With an air of camaraderie, Anna pulled Theodore closer, intertwining their arms together with Phara’s. They made their way back to the bedroom, laughter trailing behind them like a secret promise.

  ***

  In the dimly lit basement of the office building, rows of cells stretched out before Dr. Specker. Each one housed a vampire, their eyes filled with a predatory hunger that sent chills down his spine. Dr. Specker walked slowly, his footsteps echoing in the cold, damp space. His eyes stopped on a particular cell, where a beautiful blonde female vampire lay in a seemingly peaceful slumber.

  Observing the scene, one of his medical staff, Sara, couldn't help but question the doctor's fascination with this particular vampire. “Why are you so fond of this one?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

  Dr. Specker shook his head, denying any emotional attachment. “I'm not fond of her,” he replied, his voice distant. “But she holds the key to something much greater.”

  He pulled out a small device from his pocket, handing it to Melissa. “I am satisfied with the selection of vampires so far, but I need ones that are at least 100 years old. This device can detect their age.”

  Sara nodded, understanding the doctor's intentions. “We will start using it tonight then,” she replied, holding the device tightly.

  Dr. Specker felt an urgency within him. “No, use it now. Test them all. Dispose of anyone who's not at least a century old.”

  Perplexed, Sara questioned how to carry out such a task. Dr. Specker dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. “Just figure it out. And bring me the blonde female when she wakes up.”

  Sara hesitated, worry etched on her face. “You shouldn't spend too much time with that vampire,” she warned, concern evident in her voice.

  But Dr. Specker paid her no heed, his mind already drifting back to his research. He left the basement, ascending in the elevator to the floor that housed his lab. As he resumed his work, a mysterious woman silently entered the room, unnoticed by the doctor.

  Melissa approached him, her footsteps soft and deliberate. She gently rubbed his tense shoulders, her voice curious yet demanding. “What is taking you so long?” she inquired, her words laced with impatience.

  Dr. Specker turned to face her, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “All great things take time,” he replied confidently. He motioned towards the microscope, showing her a sample of the vampire's blood and its incredible ability to regenerate human tissue cells.

  Intrigued, Melissa leaned in, studying the sample. “When do you think you'll be ready for human testing?” she asked, her tone expectant.

  Dr. Specker hesitated, unsure of the timeline. “I'm not too sure. We've only just begun our research a month ago.”

  Melissa's expression hardened, her voice turning stern. “I will need a presentation for the investors in a week,” she stated firmly.

  Dr. Specker felt a surge of panic. “That's impossible,” he protested, his voice filled with desperation.

  Leaning in closer, Melissa's voice turned cold. “Get it done, or I will find a doctor who can.”

  With those words, Melissa swiftly exited the lab, leaving Dr. Specker alone with his thoughts. Filled with a newfound determination, he returned his focus to the microscope, doubling his efforts to meet Melissa's demanding deadline.

  In the midst of his frantic work, Melissa entered the lab, her eyes immediately drawn to the worried expression on Dr. Specker's face. Concerned, she inquired about Melissa's visit.

  Dr. Specker sighed, his voice tinged with urgency. “We must prepare for human testing,” he replied. “I will make a few calls, see what I can do.”

  Melissa paused at the threshold of the lab, casting a concerned glance back at Dr. Specker. The usually composed doctor seemed to be a bundle of nerves, his hands trembling as he worked at his workstation, surrounded by a sea of medical equipment and the ever-present microscope. Something was clearly weighing heavily on his mind.

  Dr. Specker's voice crackled with a sense of urgency as he spoke. "Have the men focus solely on capturing vampires who are 100 years or older. We cannot afford to waste any more time. We must double our efforts."

  Sara nodded, her expression seriously. “Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice filled with determination.

  But as Dr. Specker continued his work, his distress became more palpable. In his agitated state, he fumbled with a delicate specimen and watched helplessly as it slipped from his grasp, crashing to the floor and splattering its contents across the pristine tiles. It was the last of its kind, a precious sample lost.

  Frustration mingled with despair in Dr. Specker's voice as he muttered,” That was the last of that one.”

  Seeing his distress, Sara hurried over and gently guided him to a nearby chair. “Take a moment to collect yourself, doctor. I will arrange to have more blood drawn from our captive. Just take deep breaths.”

  Dr. Specker slowly sank into the chair, his hands trembling as he clutched the sides. Sara's calming presence drew the tension from his body, her voice soothing his troubled mind. It was a brief respite in the chaotic world they found themselves in. As Sara turned to exit the lab, her footsteps echoed down the corridor, a determined purpose in each stride. She made her way to the basement of the office building, where a group of vampires had been securely locked away. The dimly lit corridor seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy as she approached the massive iron door.

  Taking a deep breath, Sara unlocked the door, revealing a row of cells filled with ancient vampires, their eyes glinting with a mix of resignation and defiance. They were beings of immense power and darkness, now reduced to prisoners of the very creatures they had once preyed upon.

  With steady hands, Sara selected one of the oldest vampires, the beautiful blonde female Vampire. They locked eyes for a brief moment, each acknowledging the weight of their respective roles in this twisted dance between captor and captive. Leading the vampire back to the sterile lab.

  As the lab door closed behind them, plunging them into a world of cold steel and bright lights, Sara caught a glimpse of anger in the vampire's eyes. Dr. Specker stepped closer, holding a device designed to extract a sample of the vampire's precious blood. With precision and expertise, he placed it on her arm, swiftly withdrawing the crimson liquid.

  “Take her back,” Dr. Specker commanded, his voice laced with a mixture of authority and caution.

  ***

  Anastasia woke to the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a glow on the room. Beside her, Delilah stirred, her eyes fluttering open with a gentle smile. The sight of her wife's face filled Anastasia's heart with a sense of contentment and love.

  Delilah's voice broke the silence, her excitement evident. “What time do you think your sister will come?”

  Anastasia let out a small chuckle, knowing Delilah’s eagerness to meet her sister Anna well. "I'm not sure if she is, dear. You know Anna doesn't warm up to others easily. What happened while I was resting?”

  As Anastasia brushed her teeth, the soft, rhythmic sound of the toothbrush echoed against the subtle hum of the apartment's fluorescent lights. The mirror reflected the imagery of Delilah, radiant in her morning routine. She flowed across the bathroom like a dancer on a stage, her movements imbued with an effortless grace. Water droplets adorned her skin like shimmering jewels, catching the light as they glided down her arms. The air was infused with hints of lavender and vanilla, a gentle reminder of the enchanted life they shared. Anastasia leaned against the doorframe, a smile curling at the corners of her lips, pride swelling in her chest as she admired the woman who had captivated her very being.

  Delilah’s laughter, bright and melodious, rang out as she began her shower, her voice rising over the cascading water in a cheerful serenade. “I’ll let you know if Anna arrives. But don’t get your hopes up about Anna coming here; she hates most vampires,” Anastasia teased, her voice laced with a warm playfulness.

  From behind the curtain, Delilah’s voice, unaffected by the torrent of water, floated to her. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. You underestimate my charm, my love.”

  Anastasia chuckled softly, shaking her head, a fondness radiating from her as she exited their little sanctuary. The air thrummed with life, and though she had every reason to feel at home, a familiar tension crept in. Blake awaited her in the dim hallway, his brow furrowed under near-somber shadows. The flickering overhead lights cast fleeting shapes on the wall, mimicking the unrest that accompanied the coven’s whispers.

  “Good evening, Blake. What’s wrong now?” she asked, the playful lilt of her previous moment quickly dissipating, replaced by a more serious tone.

  He sighed, his gaze flitting away like leaves caught in a breeze. “The members of the coven have been talking about your sister. They say one of Anna’s lovers is a werewolf.”

  Anastasia’s brow knitted together, the thought igniting a spark of worry. “Why are they so interested in my sister’s companions? Shouldn’t we be more concerned about the witch she’s with? I’ve heard she possesses great power.”

  Blake nodded, his expression grave. “True, but werewolves are rarely seen. And rumors say her witch lover has many abilities—many powers. It’s piqued their curiosity. Are they planning to visit the coven?”

  Anastasia merely shrugged, a mask of indifference shielding the swarm of thoughts rising within her. “Why are you asking all these questions?”

  With careful deliberation, Blake reached into his pocket, producing Anastasia’s cell phone—a sleek device gleaming under the fluorescent light. “You left this in your office. It’s fully charged. You have a missed call from Anna, as a maid cleaning your office noted. People are speculating that the great Báthory sisters will unite once more.”

  A flicker of a smile passed over Anastasia's face as she glanced at the screen, the name Anna illuminated like a beacon. “If you ever call my sister, a Báthory, she will rip out your throat. She’s inherited my stepfather’s Ferenc II Nádasdy surname,” she jested, a dark humor creeping into her words.

  As they entered the elevator, Anastasia felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The lounge area on the office floor was abuzz with activity, vampires and humans mingling together. Anastasia and Blake made their way through the crowd, heading towards her office.

  “Bring me Nicole,” Anastasia instructed Blake once they reached her sanctuary.

  Blake nodded and disappeared, returning moments later with Nicole. He left them alone, closing the door behind him. Nicole stepped closer, her eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and desire. In a sudden, impulsive moment, she leaned in and kissed Anastasia. Shocked, Anastasia instinctively pulled away.

  “What are you doing?” Anastasia's voice trembled with confusion.

  Nicole's voice was filled with apology. “I'm sorry, you're just so beautiful.”

  Anastasia's eyes narrowed, her voice firm. “You do realize I am married, don't you?”

  Nicole's gaze dropped, her voice barely audible. “Yes, but Delilah...”

  Anastasia's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to make sense of Nicole's words. “What about Delilah?”

  But before Nicole could respond, she quickly changed the subject, holding her neck towards Anastasia. Instinctively, Anastasia questioned her motives but soon found herself succumbing to her hunger. She fed from Nicole as she always did, the taste of blood mingling with the confusion and unease that now clouded her thoughts. As Nicole left her office, Anastasia was left alone, her mind consumed with a whirlwind of emotions. The impending arrival of her sister Anna and the revelations of the day left her feeling both anticipation and trepidation.

  Moments later, the heavy oak door to Anastasia's office creaked open, and Blake stepped inside, the scent of aged paper and ink greeting him like a long-lost friend. The room was dimly lit, flecks of dust dancing in the narrow beams of light that filtered through the curtains. It was a sanctuary of secrets, filled with towering bookshelves that loomed like sentinels, cradling knowledge both arcane and mundane.

  At her desk, Anastasia sat surrounded by a chaotic sea of papers, her fingers trembling as they sifted through a collection of worn documents, each one a fragment of a history long buried. The urgency in her movements betrayed the whirlwind of emotions churning within her—a tempest of nervousness and the fraught anticipation of a reunion. Startled by the sudden quietness of the door, her hand slipped, sending a cascade of papers fluttering to the floor like startled birds.

  Blake rushed over, concern etched into the lines of his face as he took in the disarray. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a silent communion of understanding passing between them before he crouched to gather the scattered papers. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but probing, as though he might uncover the heavy burdens she carried.

  Anastasia inhaled deeply, the cool air tinged with the musty aroma of the room. “I... I haven't seen my sister in ten years,” she confessed, the tremor in her voice betraying her brave facade. “And now, with everything that happening we have a chance to reconnect... But, at the time we crossed paths she didn't say a word, plus she was furious for giving away her son to that Wendigo couple.” The weight of her words hung in the air, thick with longing and apprehension.

  Blake nodded, his expression softening as understanding washed over him. “Well, at least you still have family left. Not many vampires have that luxury.” His voice carried a trace of sympathy.

  Anastasia turned her gaze to the distant window, her mind drifting back to a time when the world felt simpler. “For the longest time, it was just me and Anna,” she began, her voice carrying a melodic hint of nostalgia that lingered in the air like a haunting lullaby. “I remember the day she was born vividly. My mother was too wrapped up in her own obsessions, and my other siblings left the moment they could. But Anna... she wouldn’t leave without me. I took care of her, but as time went on, she became my anchor, my strength. Our bond was unbreakable—until she got involved with that Wendigo.”

  A flicker of curiosity sparked in Blake's eyes as he processed her words. “Most stories about your sister paint her as... not so nice,” he ventured cautiously, careful not to tread on fragile ground that might fracture under the weight of history.

  Anastasia's expression shifted, softening as a bittersweet smile graced her lips. “Ah, yes. That reputation,” she sighed, a hint of sorrow weaving through her tone. “It stems from our mother. She despises vampires, you see.”

  Blake's brow furrowed in confusion. “But... I thought Anna was a vampire too,” he murmured, his voice cracking under the astonishment.

  Shaking her head, Anastasia's eyes glimmered with a mix of sorrow and understanding. “When my mother allowed herself to be turned into a vampire, she was already pregnant with Anna. My sister is a hybrid, trapped between two worlds—either fully human nor vampire. She survives on less blood than most, can walk in the sunlight, and possesses strength that surpasses even some vampires.”

  The revelation washed over Blake like a sudden storm, reshaping his perceptions of Anna with every word. “I never knew that about Anna,” he admitted, the surprise palpable in his voice, mingling with a newfound curiosity.

  Anastasia let out a soft chuckle, a sound that danced lightly in the tense air. “Well, there's much more to Anna than meets the eye,” she said, pride threading through her words like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. “But for now, let’s focus on preparing the information for her. There is much to catch up on before I call her back.”