Page 59 of The Shadow King's Brother

“But not just yet,” he murmurs, eyes dark, voice too calm. His grip loosens, but he doesn’t step away. “Not when there’s still so much left to play with.”

I want to slap his hand away. Spit in his face. Drive my knee into his ribs and watch him bleed. But I don’t. Not yet. Because I need to think—to calculate, to read him, to figure out what the hell he’s planning before I make my move.

And most of all, because I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

My whole body aches, and the darkness creeping into my vision tells me the poison is sinking deeper. Spreading. Gaining ground.

He turns on his heel and walks out, leaving me gasping in the cold, silent room.

For a long time, I just lie there, trying to process what the hell just happened. Who is he? He looked young—too young to hold this much power. But something about him felt… familiar. Not his face, exactly. Just something in the way he moved. The way he looked at me like he already knew what I’d do before I did it.

He’s not working alone. He can’t be. Someone else is behind this. Someone pulling the strings.

Just as I start to close my eyes, praying for even a minute of peace, a sound cuts through the silence like a knife.

The door creaks open again.

Eddie?

I freeze. My breath catches.

But then: the soft, deliberate click of heels on concrete. Not boots. Heels.

A faint scent drifts in—expensive perfume, floral.

My stomach turns to ice.

A silhouette lingers in the doorway. Feminine. Curved. Composed. She tilts her head ever so slightly, like she’s studying me.

Something ancient stirs in the back of my mind.

No. No. It’s not possible.

I blink, trying to focus through the blur in my vision. But my body recognizes her before my brain catches up—every muscle goes tight, a cold sweat beading along my spine.

“Mom?” My voice cracks, barely audible.

She steps forward into the light.

My stomach drops. My entire world tilts.

“No… no…” The word falls from my lips in a broken whisper. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit.

But there she is.

She steps forward, calm as ever, elegance wrapped in ice.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. The poison is in my blood, but it’s her presence that turns my limbs to stone.

Why the hell is she here?

Chapter10

Elio De Luca

The silencein the house hits like a slap—too loud, too empty. I step into the living room, the ache in my chest growing with every second she’s not here.

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