Clara’s POV
I walked back into the ballroom, smoothing my dress and trying to erase the image of what I’d just witnessed. But whatever calm I thought I had was shattered the moment I stepped in.
And then I saw him.
The King.
Covered in blood.
He stood tall, dominant, terrifying—his powerful frame soaked in deep red that dripped slowly from his claws to the polished marble floor. In his arms was Amelia, unconscious, her head resting limply against his chest like a broken porcelain doll.
Every eye was on him.
No one spoke. No one moved.
The music had long stopped. Even the air felt frozen.
The only sound was the subtle drip… drip… drip of blood.
“Everyone. Get. Out.” the King roared, his voice dark and primal.
The room broke into chaos, no screams, no protests, just a sudden and d
