She goes to her hotel to freshen up

The penthouse suite was as decadent as she had expected—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a king-sized bed draped in black satin sheets, and a private infinity pool on the terrace that seemed to melt into the horizon. But Lara had little time to admire the luxury.

The moment she stepped inside, she shrugged off her dusty white blouse, letting it slide down her arms and pool at her feet. The humid heat of Velmoria had left a thin sheen of sweat on her sun-kissed skin, making her breasts glisten as they rose and fell with her breath. She unhooked her khaki shorts, pushing them over her sculpted hips, leaving her in just a thin black thong as she padded barefoot toward the bathroom.

The marble shower was large enough for five people—though Lara preferred solitude. She turned on the water, letting the warm spray cascade over her toned shoulders, trailing down her full, perky breasts and over her flat stomach. She ran her hands through her hair, tipping her head back, sighing softly as the tension melted from her muscles.

She could have lingered, but there was work to do.

Wrapping herself in a thick hotel robe, she settled into the plush leather chair in front of the glass coffee table, flipping open her sleek black laptop. The screen illuminated her face in the dim room as she typed in her target:

The Shroud of Xilaya.

A relic said to have belonged to an ancient Mesopotamian priestess who wielded power not through war, but through pure, irresistible desire. Legends claimed that any woman who wore it would exude an aura of inescapable seduction—that men and women alike would fall to their knees, **** to serve, to worship, to belong. The Obsidian Order believed it was real. And if they got their hands on it…

Lara exhaled, crossing her long legs as she leaned back.

Most of what she found was myth. But deep in the web’s darkest corners, she uncovered something useful—a private collector, a man of obscene wealth who had recently acquired a "Mesopotamian textile with unknown properties." His estate was just outside the city, and if the rumors were true, he didn’t just collect rare artifacts—he collected women, too.

Lara closed the laptop and stretched, the silk robe slipping slightly off her shoulder, exposing the damp curve of her bare skin beneath.

"Time to get moving."