The air in the hospital room felt colder than it should. The kind of cold that settled in bones, not skin.
Thalia didn't move at first, even after Ermond closed the door behind him with a soft, decisive click.
Cruxius sat upright, legs lazily crossed beneath the hospital blanket, his eyes half-lidded as he watched her in silence. The flickering light above cast shifting shadows over his jawline—sharp, unreadable.
He finally broke the silence.
"You saw, didn't you?"
Thalia's chin lifted slowly. Her expression didn't crack—stubborn as always—but her voice was tight.
"I did. Not surprised though. That's who you are, right? Cruxius Blac. Always taking what he wants."
There was venom there. But it wasn't fresh—it tasted like something dredged up from old wounds.
Before he could reply, a voice cut in.
