Kane moved first—a blur of silver as his enhanced speed kicked in, trying to dart past Cyrus toward the balcony doors.
He made it three steps.
Crimson chains materialized from thin air, wrapping around Kane's wrists and ankles with surgical precision.
The dragon magic yanked him backward, momentum reversing as if gravity itself obeyed Cyrus's will.
Kane's back hit the mattress hard, breath punching from his lungs.
The chains tightened, spreading his arms wide across the silk sheets, pinning his legs flat.
Silver foxfire sparked uselessly against the restraints—Cyrus's magic absorbed the energy like water dousing flame.
"Let go—"
Cyrus loomed over him, one knee planted on the mattress, expression carved from stone.
"No."
Kane thrashed, nine tails whipping frantically. The crimson chains held firm, burning neither hot nor cold, just immovable.
Cyrus reached down with deliberate calm, fingers closing around Kane's phone.
