The great doors of the Crimson Blood throne hall creaked open, and the sharp echo of boots carried through the vast chamber. Lucien sat on his throne, body relaxed as though he were calm, but his eyes… those icy blue and merciless eyes betrayed the storm that brewed within.
Darius, leader of the assassin clan, walked in. His steps were slow, measured and cautious, but sweat already gathered at his temples before he even spoke. He bowed his head low, not daring to make eye contact.
“Greetings, Alpha Lucien,” his voice was steady, though his insides twisted.
Lucien’s gaze narrowed. His voice rolled out, cold and hard.
“Have you gotten to the root of it?”
Darius nodded once. “Yes. The infiltrators… They were assassins. But not by my order. They acted on their own, following the promises
