That night, Daniel led a small team of armed soldiers, quietly closing in on the Selune house.The air felt thick with tension, the cold night wrapping the street in a quiet, oppressive silence.Edward Wells stood at the doorstep.The doorbell rang out, sharp and clear, cutting through the silence like a gunshot, its echo lingering in the still night air.Harold stepped forward with an easy smile, his hand already reaching for the door to pull it wider, expecting another normal evening.But when his eyes locked with Daniel’s, the smile faded as if it had been wiped away.Daniel stood tall and imposing—his broad shoulders and muscular frame silhouetted against the dim porch light.In his hand, he gripped a gun with an ease that spoke volumes about his deadly precision.His cold, hard eyes locked onto Harold, and the smile vanished entirely from Harold’s face."Mr. Wells, what’s going on?" Harold stammered, his voice shaky, a faint tremor betraying his confusion and fear."Cut the crap!