The Duke’s estate loomed in the distance, as familiar to me as the scent of fresh blood on a battlefield. It had been weeks since I last stepped foot here, yet nothing seemed to change. The stifling air of duplicity and desperation lingered like an old wound that never healed. I dismounted, handed the reins to a stable hand, and made my way inside, my boots clicking against the polished marble floors.
I entered the Duke’s study without knocking. Donovan stood by the window, his back turned to me, staring at the sprawling estate as if searching for something he had long lost.
“Iron Fang has been dealt with,” I said simply.
He turned slowly, his face as expressionless as the stone statues adorning his garden. “I heard,” he replied, his tone far too calm for a man whose territory had just
