Chapter 89
Alric
Something feels off.
The elders have been whispering among themselves more than usual. Their eyes hold something I don't like—anticipation, maybe even hope. It's suspicious. I've ruled them long enough to know the signs. They're waiting for something. Scheming, perhaps.
But it doesn't matter. They can plot and plan until their throats go hoarse; none of them have the spine or strength to oppose me. Not while I have Savage Claw at my back.
I glance out the cracked window of my office, the fading moonlight spilling pale silver over the rundown buildings of White Stone. The place looks ragged, yes, but it is mine. It's still standing, isn't it? And that is because of me.
They call me weak behind closed doors. A coward. They think I don't hear, but I do. I see their sneers, the way they avoid meeting my eyes. And still, they come crawling to me when the vampires circle closer. Still, they live under the protection I arranged.
