The temperature in the corridor seemed to drop with every breath he took. The sterile lights dimmed slightly, flickering as though the palace itself sensed the shift.
Christopher stood still, hands at his sides, eyes locked on Hanna. "What did you just say?"
Hanna's chin lifted, her tone measured, too calm for a woman facing an omega radiating danger. "Everything I did," she said, each word deliberate, "was in accordance with His Majesty's orders. You think I would have dared to act otherwise?"
Rowan stiffened beside him, realizing the trap even before Christopher did. "That's not…"
But the words died as frost began to creep along the glass wall of the containment cell.
At first, it was faint, like condensation, then it spread, tendrils of white veining outward in delicate, crystalline patterns. The chamber filled with the faint crackle of freezing air. The temperature plummeted so quickly Rowan could see his own breath.
