'What the fuck?'
Florian didn't know whether to be horrified or relieved as he stepped closer to the bound figure kneeling at the center of the dungeon.
His stomach twisted, not with fear—but with dread. Cold, creeping dread.
This wasn't someone he trusted. In fact, Florian would've never guessed her. Never.And that in itself was terrifying.
Because someone else in this room did trust her. Not just trust. Respected.
Florian's gaze slid slowly toward Heinz.
The king, so rarely shaken, was trembling. His crimson eyes—usually so composed, sharp, and unreadable—were wide and unfocused, as if struggling to process what lay before him. His hands, clenched so tightly that his knuckles paled, trembled at his sides.
The moment Heinz took a step forward, the entire dungeon began to rumble.
Small cracks slithered across the stone beneath their feet like veins of fury, webbing outward from his boots.
