Page 158 of Warlord's Plaything

He's cornered.

And a man like Kaelith?—

He won’t go down without making this war burn.

"Enough."

His voice is quieter now.

Controlled.

Cold.

The chamber settles into uneasy silence.

"We will deal with this. We will remind the orcs where their place is."

His gaze cuts through the room like a blade, lingering on those who have questioned him, those who have spoken against him.

Marking them.

Like a predator committing its prey to memory.

His eyes land on the secret chamber’s entrance as if he knows I’m watching.

The tension in the air is thick.

Like fucking tar.

Like a storm waiting to rip apart the sky.

His lips curl, just slightly.

He doesn’t speak.

Not to me.

But I see it.

I see the threat.

I see the silent promise.

This isn’t over.

Not yet.

I let my smirk widen. Let him see exactly what’s coming.

He doesn’t have control anymore.

The council is crumbling under his feet.

Because soon, his entire fucking empire will burn.

And when it does?—

I will be the one standing over the ashes.

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