Page 118 of Savage Crown

Let him play his games.

I can play them better.

I glance at Seraphina. The iron cuffs bite into her wrists, the chains secured to the chair.

A calculated move.

If he wanted her suffering, he would have had her beaten worse.

No.

He needs her alive.

He needs me to see her like this.

To make me weak.

He knows she’s the key.

I exhale slowly, shifting my weight. "You went through all this trouble for me. Let’s get to the point."

Nhilian takes a sip of his wine, savoring it. "Very well. I assume, by now, you've accepted the truth?"

I meet his gaze. "That you talk too much? Yes."

His laughter is sharp, grating.

"You’re amusing when you’re cornered, Rylan." He sets his cup down with a soft clink. "But that’s all this is—false bravado. You think you’re still in control, but I know better."

He leans forward, fingers interlacing. "You came here expecting a fight. But now you’re questioning everything, aren’t you? Your precious adoptive father, Marchellion… he wasn’t the hero you thought he was. He was a murderer."

I tilt my head slightly. "And?"

A flicker of something in Nhilian’s gaze. A pause.

Not the reaction he expected.

Good.

I step closer, until I’m nearly at the table.

"I’ve accepted the truth," I say. "That doesn’t mean I care."

Seraphina’s breath hitches—just slightly.

Nhilian’s smirk flickers.

I keep going.

"I always knew Marchellion was a bastard," I continue, voice calm, even. "He didn’t raise me out of kindness. He raised me out of necessity. And he died for it."

I smile. Mocking. Cruel.

"And now, so will you.”

The shift is instant.

Nhilian’s amusement turns razor-sharp.

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