[Third POV – General]
The room was quiet except for the wet, uneven sound of breathing.
The man lay twisted on the polished floor, blood spreading beneath him in a dark, glistening pool. His fingers twitched weakly as he tried to push himself up and failed. His chest rose shallowly, every breath bubbling faintly through damaged lungs.
Madison stepped forward.
She did not rush.
She did not panic.
She simply moved with the same measured composure she always carried, the torn fabric of her dress hanging loosely at her collar. The exposed skin did not seem to concern her in the slightest.
She stopped in front of the man and lowered herself into a graceful stoop.
Her gaze traveled over him calmly, assessing.
Theo stood a few steps behind her, shoulders still tight, jaw clenched. The white-hot rage that had carried him into the room was fading now, replaced by a heavy clarity that left him slightly shaken.
