Aria's eyes had barely adjusted to the sudden darkness when the lights flickered back on, one after the other, bathing the hall in a cold, sterile glow.
But just as her vision began to adapt to the brightness, she gasped. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched Zyren move.
He was fast—inhumanly fast—but his blade was even faster. Before anyone could react, he struck down the woman who had spoken.
"Liar!" he snarled, his voice dripping with fury, every syllable laced with deadly intent. The sheer force of his rage was unmistakable.
The blade tore through the woman like she was made of paper, slicing her into so many pieces that Aria knew—without a shadow of doubt—that even as a vampire, there was no coming back from it. She had been annihilated.
Zyren was merciless, a whirlwind of violence as he slaughtered the others—one by one—as if their lives meant nothing to him. No hesitation. No remorse. Just blood.
