The world stilled.
For what felt like hours, the carriage had rattled endlessly, every jolt bruising his bound wrists, every turn erasing sense of direction. Now, silence. The wheels ceased their groan, the horses quieted, and a tension deeper than the ropes pressed against Lucian's chest. He forced his breath to slow through the gag, though panic fluttered hot in his lungs.
Boots scraped gravel outside. Low voices murmured, just far enough he could not yet catch the words. Then closer—two, maybe three.
"Take him inside," one said, rough and curt. "The master will decide."
Another voice grunted assent. "Best tie him firm. We wait until the master comes."
The words clawed through the hood, through cloth and darkness. The master. Singular. One presence he was being delivered to—someone powerful enough to command silence, loyal men, and shadows deep enough to hide a carriage unseen.
