The gunshot did not fade when it was fired. It tore through the interrogation room and lingered, echoing violently against the walls until the sound itself felt heavy.
For a brief second, everything froze.
Dorian's head snapped back against the metal restraint with enough force to rattle the entire frame. Blood followed immediately—thick, dark, and steady—spilling from the side of his head, trailing down his face before dripping onto the floor beneath him.
No one moved.
The officers stood frozen, their training failing them in that single moment. None of them had expected this. None of them had been fast enough to stop it.
Sebastian, however, did not look shocked.
He stood exactly where he was, his arm still raised, the gun steady in his grip as if time had refused to move forward for him. His breathing remained controlled, but something deeper had settled behind his eyes. Something colder than anger. Something that had already crossed a line and refused to return.
