Men soaked in sin, stained beyond redemption.
“Ah, but they are well-versed in our...unique requirements,” Father assured me, his words slithering through the air like serpents.
A plan unfurled within me, slow and deliberate, like the petals of a night-blooming flower.
A plan steeped in dark promise.
“Perfect,” I murmured, my heart quickening with wicked anticipation.“I shall see to their integration myself.”
A simple sentence, innocuous in sound—but beneath it lay an unspoken vow.
I would bring them to Amir.
The very filth that served Winston, that obeyed without question would serve another purpose now.
Their tainted, corrupt souls would be his sustenance.
And then—he would rise.
The masquerade would not be a triumph of social graces.
It would be a reckoning.
With the stage set and the players unknowingly cast, I retreated to my chambers, the weight of my carefully woven deception pressing against my skin like a velvet shroud.
Each tick of the ornate clock upon my mantel was a heartbeat?—
Counting down.
To the moment I would unleash Amir’s might upon them all.
That night, I stood at my chamber window, watching.
My father.Mathias.Lord Winston.
Three monsters cloaked in wealth and power slipped into their carriage like vipers retreating into the dark.
The heavy curtains fell shut, sealing them inside—conspirators bound by whispers too grave for my ears.
Their secrets evaporated before they could reach me, carried away in the cold night air.
The horses snorted impatiently, their breath curling into the darkness, and with the snap of the reins, the carriage rolled away to some clandestine rendezvous.
Let them scheme.
Let them believe they were untouchable.
They had no idea what I was preparing in their absence.
I turned from the window, my pulse even, my resolve honed to a deadly edge.
There was work to be done.
My gaze swept the corridors until it landed upon her.
The maid.
The one who eagerly warmed Lord Winston’s bed, her laughter too free, too bright for this house of horrors.
