It was 1 o'clock in the morning. The pitch-black sky—clear just moments ago, filled with stars and a gentle moon—was now shrouded in dark clouds, blazing with thunder and lightning.
Shifa clenched the leather suitcase tightly, breathing a heavy sigh that did nothing to lift the weight on his chest—it felt like a million-pound stone pressing down on his heart.
He looked down the dark corridor and tiptoed silently toward the palace's back door.
Suddenly—
BANG.
A deafening crash split the silence behind him. He turned, wide-eyed. A table lay overturned, shattered utensils and bruised fruit scattered across the marble.
And beside it...
Rigor stood motionless. The blankness in his stare was more terrifying than rage.
"Are you thinking of abandoning me, Shifa Smith?" Have you forgotten..-"Your are Mine".
The words were a whisper, but they pierced through the air-raspy, bone-chilling, and soaked in betrayal..
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