Reva grabbed Luther's arm, her voice shaking. "No! I'll do anything you ask! I'll marry Lucas—just like you wanted. I'll do whatever you say, just don't kill him!"
Her desperation hung in the silence. Even the guards who stood nearby dared not move.
Luther looked down at her, eyes still burning red. His aura flared for a moment, thick enough to suffocate, then dimmed.
"…Fine," he said finally, his tone laced with disdain. "Throw him out. Far beyond my borders. Let him rot where he belongs."
Reva's head shot up. "He's injured!" she pleaded. "He's human, he won't survive the night. Please… let him stay until he recovers. I'll lock him away myself if that's what you want, but don't send him out like this."
Luther stared at her for a long, silent moment. The sight of her kneeling, begging for a mortal, made something twist in his chest—not pity, not remorse, just deeper revulsion.
