My lungs burned with each labored breath as I lay sprawled on the floor, tasting blood and defeat. The jade pendant against my chest pulsed with diminishing heat—a dying ember where moments ago it had blazed. Through swollen eyes, I could still make out Harrison Ashworth's imposing silhouette standing over me.
"Say it again," Harrison demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. "What would your life be without my daughter?"
I coughed, spitting blood onto my already ruined floor. "Meaningless," I rasped, each syllable sending sharp pains through my cracked ribs. "A life without Isabelle is no life at all."
Harrison's expression remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes—calculation, perhaps, or the faintest hint of respect. Before he could respond, Caspian Kane stepped forward, his nose still bloodied from my lucky punch.
