Every bruise on Meyer's body, every confession wrung from him and every shattered bone was all fueled by something far more personal.
By guilt.
By regret.
And by the gnawing thought that he had failed Soren.
That he had not protected him when it mattered most.
And yet, within that storm of violence and blood, Cael carried a fragile expectation.
If Soren knew what he was doing… if Soren could see this, see how he was dismantling the very men responsible for countless ruined lives, surely Soren would feel something.
Perhaps relief or even happiness.
Cael imagined Soren's gentle expression softening, those kind eyes no longer shadowed by quiet suffering. Maybe Soren would offer him gratitude or a small and sincere smile because that was the kind of person Soren was.
Kindhearted to a fault, forgiving even when he had every right not to be.
To Cael, that imagined reaction felt certain and inevitable.
