"Prince Vincent…?"
Nix stared at him in disbelief, shock written all over his face.
"You—"
"It's me."
Vincent spoke calmly. His voice was low, edged with a cool, magnetic clarity—each syllable firm, decisive, and impossible to argue with. He didn't need to raise his voice; the sheer weight of his presence pressed down naturally, commanding attention the moment he spoke.
He looked at Nix wth clear gaze. "So," Vincent asked mildly, "have you enjoyed playing with me these past few days?"
Nix was speechless.
Who was playing with him? That was taking care of him, all right?
Before Nix could defend himself, Vincent continued.
"My apologies. That was poorly worded. Nix, you took very good care of me during that time. You have my sincere thanks."
Hearing those words didn't make Nix feel relieved in the slightest. Instead, his scalp prickled with unease.
He eyed Vincent warily.
