"Your tongue has grown far too long in my absence, you bastard," Olivia said, her voice a flat line of ice.
Sylvester pulled himself up, standing with a arrogant grace. He spat to the side, his eyes dragging over her. "And it seems you've forgotten who I am. Do you honestly think hiding behind this… thing will shield you from what's coming?"
Matthias's reaction was skeletal. His fingers locked around the hilt of his blade, the metal beginning to sing as he drew it—until Olivia's hand clamped onto his forearm. Her grip was cold, the touch of a corpse, forcing his hand to stay, shoving the steel back into its sheath.
She wasn't offering him peace. She was claiming the kill.
"Do not rush your departure, darling," Olivia said, her tone dry and pitiless. "I intend to make your end every bit as agonizing as the nightmare you wove for me. Believe me, Sylvie… I'm paying back every cent of that debt."
