Cruxius arrived at the shattered doorway of the office. He halted, his dark eyes scanning the ruined space. There was nothing but a cold, suffocating silence.
His gaze flickered across the carnage until it landed on the blood-soaked floor. Several guards lay motionless, their bodies twisted. Right before them sat a wet, mangled lump of raw meat.
It didn't faze him—except for one glaring detail. It was a human heart.
Given his long, bloody history of slaughter, he recognized the torn muscle tissue and severed valves at a mere glance.
Following the thick, smeared trail of red, he found another body sprawled awkwardly on the expensive rug. A man dressed in a sharp, formal black butler's outfit.
Ermond.
His uniform was ruined, his chest a hollowed-out, bloody cavern.
At that exact moment, something dark and jagged snapped deep inside Cruxius.
