“Not over yet? Are you implying there's another act to this insane drama?” I sneered, my voice dripping with mockery.
The attacker's eyes flashed with barely contained rage.
“You'll rue the day you crossed us,” he snarled, his fingers twitching as if yearning to wrap around my throat.
Timothée stepped forward. His voice was soft, almost gentle, but laced with an undercurrent of steel that sent chills down my spine.
“Let's consider who has more cause for regret,” he mused, his gaze boring into the attacker. “Is it someone like you, who burns innocent lives like kindling? Or perhaps it's us, the ones committed to extinguishing your twisted ideology?”
The attacker's facade cracked for a moment, uncertainty flickering across his face. Timothée pressed on, his words a calculated dance of
