From where I stood in the shadows beyond the half-closed door, I could see everything clearly—the tension, the weight of failure, the fragile thread holding Kennedy’s pride together as he spoke.
“My legs are gone,” he said hoarsely, his voice scraping against the silence like broken glass. “And the Wild Warriors… they’re finished.”
The air in the room seemed to thicken instantly, pressing down on everyone inside. Even the attendants froze, their movements stilled by the gravity of his words.
Razen Vale didn’t speak immediately, but I saw it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the flicker of calculation behind his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through steel.
“Who did this?”
Kennedy lifted his head, and the hatred
