The silence in the corridor was no longer empty; it was a living, breathing monster.
Mathias stood frozen, his mind a chaotic battlefield of conflicting thoughts. His grip on his sword-hilt didn't just loosen; it trembled. Did she truly do it? He looked at Olivia's profile—serene, pale, and terrifyingly calm. He tried to reconcile the woman he loved with the image of a cold-blooded liberator who had ended an Duchess. The truth was a bitter pill, lodged firmly in his throat, choking his ability to even breathe.
But Roland... Roland was no longer a man. He was a rupture in reality.
A jagged, manic laugh tore from his throat, echoing through the stone arches of the palace like the cackle of a hyena. "How exquisite!" he roared, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "My little bird has finally learned how to play the game! My blood truly does run through your veins, doesn't it?"
