SERAPHINA'S POV
what could I possibly tell him? My thoughts crashed violently against one another as I searched desperately for a lie believable enough to survive Nicholas Vault's eyes, but every excuse died before it could fully form.
He sat across from me with terrifying composure, my father's blood spreading slowly across the floor between us while the scent of iron thickened the air until it became difficult to breathe.
The knife still rested loosely in his hand, crimson dripping steadily from its edge onto the tiles beneath him, yet Nicholas looked almost relaxed, like a man listening to an interesting story instead of deciding whether someone deserved to live or die.
"I didn't plan any of this, Mr. Vault," I whispered at last, my voice shaking so badly the words nearly broke apart. "I swear to you… it's just… it's just—"
"Speak."
The word cracked through the apartment with such force that my entire body jerked violently against the ropes.
