Yohana couldn't even scream. She just stared at the blood on her own body, then up at Iskander.
He stood there, holding the still-beating heart with a cold expression, as if he had just swatted a fly instead of killing someone.
"He was talking too much," Iskander said with a terrifyingly calm. He wiped a stray drop of blood from his cheek with his free hand. "And I don't like people filling your head with fairy tales."
Yohana's breath hitched, her lungs feeling like they were struggling for oxygen.
The shock was so deep she couldn't even move. She just looked at the space where Vincent's body had been, and then at the Alpha King who stood over her like a god of death.
"You... you killed him," she whispered, the words finally breaking through her lips. "He was going to tell me... what was he going to tell me?"
Iskander dropped the heart onto the dirt floor without a second thought. He leaned down, reaching out to wipe the blood from her forehead with his thumb.
"Nothing you need to know, Hana. You belong to me, not to some old man's delusions."
"No!" Yohana screamed, her voice cracking as it echoed through the empty ruins. "You murderer! You… You are a monster! I… I hate you!"
She was shaking so hard she could barely stay upright.
As a mere omega, she had spent her life tucked away in the pack. She had never been to a battlefield; she had never even seen a deep wound, let alone so much blood.
Her brother had protected her from all those atrocities.
But here she was, drenched in fresh blood that felt sickeningly warm as it soaked into her clothes and clung to her skin.
She glared up at Iskander with eyes filled with pure loathing, but her body was failing her.
Yohana felt a deep pit in her stomach. She wanted to keep screaming, to throw herself at him and claw at his face, but her throat constricted. She couldn't control it.
She doubled over, her hands clutching the dirt as she started vomiting.
The smell of the blood was making her head spin, the copper scent thick enough to taste.
It was everywhere… On her face, under her fingernails, and pooling on the floor. Every time she tried to take a breath to yell at him again, the stench just triggered another wave of sickness.
Iskander stood over her, completely unfazed. He didn't move away to avoid the mess, nor did he reach out to help her.
He just watched her struggle with those same dark, intense eyes, his shadow stretching over her trembling form.
"Hate me all you want," he said, his voice terrifyingly steady compared to her frantic gasps. "But remember this feeling, Yohana. This is what happens when people try to keep secrets from me using you as their shield."
Yohana finally wiped her mouth with a trembling hand, looking at the smear of red on her skin. She looked at the hole in her Vincent's chest.
"He was... he was like my family," she choked out, her voice a broken whisper. "How could you just... like it was nothing?"
Iskander stepped closer, his boots splashing slightly in the red pool. He knelt so he was at eye level with her, ignoring the fact that she looked like she wanted to kill him.
"To me, he was nothing," Iskander replied, reaching out to tuck a blood-matted hair behind her ear. "The only thing in this room that has any value is you."
He stood up and looked toward the door. "Clean yourself up. We're leaving. And don't bother looking back, there's nothing left for you here."
Yohana cried silently, the tears streaming through the blood on her cheeks. Her whole body was trembling so violently that it was hard for her to even stand on her two feet, let alone clean herself.
She looked down at her stained hands and felt a fresh wave of horror.
How could she ever be able to wash this off? There was no water here, no fresh clothes for her, just the cold smell of death.
And even if there was a way to clean her skin, she knew it wouldn't matter.
No amount of scrubbing could wipe those images from her mind. The way his face had gone blank... it was branded into her brain forever.
Would she ever be able to forgive the culprit? She looked at the back of the man who had done it, the Alpha King who stood there so unbothered, as if he hadn't just destroyed her.
The realization hit her hard!
She had to face Iskander every single day. She was still his slave. She was bound to the monster who had ripped someone's heart out right in front of her.
"I can't..." she whispered, her voice failing. "I can't get up."
Iskander turned around, his eyes cold as they swept over her broken form. He didn't offer a hand.
He simply walked back to her and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her upward with strength.
"You will," he said, his voice a low growl. "You'll stand, and you'll walk to the car. You belong to me, Yohana. That means you don't have the luxury of falling apart until I say so."
He began dragging her toward the exit, her feet stumbling over the debris. Yohana didn't fight him; she didn't have the energy left. She just moved like a ghost, her eyes staring at nothing.
As they stepped out of the ruins and back into the dim light of the evening, the car was waiting, its engine humming patiently. The driver opened the door, and Iskander shoved her inside onto the expensive leather seats.
The contrast was sickening.
A moment ago she was in the dirt with a corpse, and now she was back in the lap of luxury.
She leaned her head against the window, the blood staining the interior of his precious car, but she didn't care. She hoped she ruined everything he owned.
Iskander climbed in next to her, settling back as if they had just finished a routine business meeting.
"Drive," he commanded.
As the car began to move, Yohana closed her eyes, but the darkness only made the "fairy" comment echo louder in her head.
Whatever secret her uncle had died for, she was trapped in the center of it with a king who would rather kill everyone she loved than let her know the truth.