Profound silence fell.
Even the very air in the room seemed to hold its breath in sheer terror.
Cruxius's throat clicked audibly as he slowly straightened his posture. His long fingers flexed slightly near the opening of his coat pocket, as if instinctively reaching for a hidden weapon—but he didn't pull anything out.
Instead, he spoke. His tone carried a strained, unnatural calm.
"I wasn't aware your kind preferred to walk into rooms that had already been cleaned up for you."
The woman didn't respond immediately.
Her ruby gaze traveled lazily across the sheer destruction of the room—the fallen guards, the broken mahogany desks, the sea of shattered glass. Her glowing eyes lingered on Ytrisia's unconscious, curvaceous form for only a fleeting second... then snapped right back to Cruxius.
Her voice was smooth as velvet, yet incredibly biting. "You don't look all that impressive in person."
