"You talk too much," he snapped, voice low but fierce. He wasn't in the mood for monologues about their cunning. And if they thought they'd outmaneuvered him, they hadn't seen everything he had to offer.
In the corner of his eye, he could see Laethor's lips twitch with faint amusent despite his dire predicant. The prince's gaze flickered between Mikhailis and the Enforcer, gauging the scene. Even bound in chains, Laethor carried himself with a sort of regal defiance, head held high, as though silently daring them to break him.
The robed Enforcer chuckled, lifting one hand lazily. The mist coiled tighter around his fingers, forming twisting shapes in the flicker of lantern light. Mikhailis recognized the predatory gleam in the Enforcer's eyes: confidence that had likely been earned from brutal experience. He's used this power in battle before. The brand on Mikhailis's arm pulsed in response, an almost tangible wave of caution.
Rodion's voice cut through the tension, words clipped and urgent:
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