Chapter 36 · The Leash

"Get your hands off me, Silas, before I rip them off your wrists."

Elara didn't scream it. She didn't have to. Her voice was a low, vibrating hum that shook the floorboards. She stood there, chest heaving, eyes glowing a predatory, terrifying crimson.

Silas froze. His fingers were still hovering near her shoulder, trying to 'steady' her. He looked at her—really looked at her—and the smugness finally vanished. He stepped back, boots clicking sharply on the marble.

"What the hell are you?" Silas hissed. His voice cracked. "You were a sacrifice. A worthless piece of trash. That poison should've melted your veins, not... this."

Elara didn't answer. She didn't need to. The power hummed under her skin like liquid fire. It didn't burn. It obeyed.

She turned her head slowly toward Kane.

He was slumped against the throne, breathing heavy, chest bare and glistening with sweat. He looked ruined. Broken. But when his eyes met hers, there was no fear. Only a raw, starving hunger. He wasn't looking at her like a King looks at a subject.