"𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑽𝑼𝑺: 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑮"

“𝟖: 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑽𝑬𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑻”

The heavy, stifling air of the casino was left behind, but the silence inside the car was far more suffocating than the rainy Istanbul night outside. Corvus sat beside me like a silent monolith, his ocean-blue eyes fixed on the lights streaking past. Only moments ago, I had erased a man’s life—my own father’s—with a single stroke of a pen, and my hands were still trembling under the crushing weight of that decision.

As if sensing the storm raging within my mind, Corvus suddenly reached out and covered my shaking hands with his. The searing heat beneath his leather glove sent a jolt of electricity through my frozen blood in seconds.

"Do not feel regret, Elara,"

he said, his voice weaving into the low hum of the engine.

"You only gave him what was earned. In our world, mercy is a lie that only the weak seek refuge in."

I turned my head toward him. Only a fraction of his face was illuminated in the darkness.

"Your world..."

I whispered.

"In my world, mercy was the only reason to live. You stain everything you touch."

Corvus let out a soft laugh; this time it wasn't mocking, it was almost tender. He slowly slid his hand to my cheek, and I felt my breath hitch as his fingertips trailed down toward my neck.

"I am not staining you, Elara. I am merely drawing out the pure darkness already inside you. And believe me, that color suits you far better than all those lying hues."

The car came to a sudden, jarring halt. I thought we had reached the mansion, but one look outside told me I was wrong. We were on the outskirts of the city, at a hidden, high-walled pier that looked abandoned by the sea. Doors flew open, and guards swarmed the perimeter instantly.

Corvus stepped out and opened my door himself.

"You were wondering whose hand struck the match for that fire in Lyon,"

he said, the dangerous glint in his eyes shimmering under the moonlight.

"That hand is currently tied up in one of the warehouses on this pier. And it is waiting for you to pull the trigger."

I froze. As my knees threatened to buckle, Corvus caught me by the waist and pulled me flush against him. My heart was hammering so violently I thought it would shatter my ribcage.

"Now tell me, Elara,"

he whispered into my ear.

"Are you truly ready to face your past, or will you choose to stay inside that fire forever? Because after what you see behind that door, you will never be the same woman again."

As Corvus’s firm fingers gripped my waist like a seal, I was led toward the rusted iron door at the end of the pier. The scent of moss and salt from the sea mingled with the soot of the fire in my mind. Corvus stopped before the door, and without taking his eyes off me for a single second, he kicked the heavy metal open.

Inside was a cold warehouse, dimly lit by the sickly glow of a single hanging bulb. In the center of the room stood a figure tied to a chair, a burlap sack over his head. The man’s ragged breathing echoed through the room like a symphony of terror.

"My father..."

I said, my voice trembling.

"I thought my father did this. I thought the man who sold me at that table was the one who started the fire."

Corvus laughed softly, a sound as chilling as the silence of a grave.

"Your father was just a small rat who opened the door, Elara. He is a coward; he wouldn't dare put his hand in the flame. But this..."

With one swift motion, Corvus ripped the sack off the man’s head.

The world spun around me at the sight of that face. Slius was there—my only friend, the one I thought had died in that fire in Lyon, the one I thought I saw take his last breath in my arms. His face was covered in blood, but the familiar hatred in his eyes remained unchanged.

"Slius?"

I whispered, dropping to my knees.

"You... You didn't die?"

Slius spat bloody phlegm onto the floor and laughed, looking straight into Corvus’s eyes.

"I knew Corvus would save you, Elara. But you’ll never understand why I struck that match that night. Your father just paid me, but I started the fire."

Corvus drew a silver-handled pistol from his waist and handed it to me. The grip felt like a burning coal in my palm.

"So, your past wasn't just about your father, was it, little girl? Now it’s your turn to bury this 'friend' who betrayed you into the ashes of the past. Pull the trigger and finish the fire that started in Lyon yourself."

The coldness of the gun in my hand felt more real than Slius’s bloodied face. Corvus stood behind me, so close I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck. I had thought he was just a "structured," dark man who protected me. He was powerful, yes; he had guards, yes... But the sheer terror in Slius’s eyes screamed that the truth was much filthier.

Slius struggled to lift his head through the chains and looked at me. The bloody smile on his lips was a warning.

"Why do you trust him, Elara?"

he groaned.

"Do you think he’s just a wealthy businessman? Do you have any idea how many corpses are buried under every inch of ground that man walks on?"

Corvus didn't flinch. His stoicism was more terrifying than Slius’s screams.

"Shut up!"

I screamed, tightening my grip on the gun. But Slius didn't stop.

"He’s mafia, Elara!

The bloodiest name in the underworld... That fire in Lyon was just one of his little games in this world. He didn't save you; he chose you to be a slave to his own darkness. That blood on his hands will never be washed away!"

The hands holding the gun began to shake. I slowly turned around. Corvus stood there, hands in his pockets, watching me with those ocean-blue eyes. No denial, no anger... only that devastating silence.

"Is it true?"

I whispered.

"Are you... are you really who they say you are?"

Corvus took a step toward me. The barrel of the gun was touching his chest, but he didn't stop. Pressing his chest against the muzzle, he brought his face close to mine.

"Who I am doesn't matter, Elara,"

he said, his voice so calm and deep that Slius’s shouting instantly faded away.

"What matters is who you are when you are by my side. Yes, my hands are bloody. Yes, this world revolves around me. But if you pull that trigger now, your hands will become just as dark as mine. Welcome, little girl; you entered the wolf’s den of your own will, and now it’s time to learn who the wolf truly is."