He turned toward Riven again. “And you. You’ll get to sit here and think about the role you played in this. About how all your little sacrifices were wasted. You picked the wrong House.”
Then he began to walk.
Riven tensed, expecting another order, another blow—but Yerin simply reached the door. He paused with his hand on the frame, his back to them, still as a shadow.
“I’m feeling generous tonight,” he said softly.
His voice barely carried.
“So I’ll give you a parting gift.”
He turned his head just enough for them to see the edge of that ruined face, a cruel curve of his mouth.
“I’ll let you die alone.”
And then he stepped out.
The door shut behind him with a hiss of hydraulics. The locks engaged with a softclick.The overhead lights buzzed faintly.
Riven exhaled through clenched teeth, chest heaving. His wrists ached. His stomach churned.
Thane said nothing.
Chapter 62
Riven waited until the last trace of footsteps faded down the corridor before moving. The silence that followed was thick and final, like the door had sealed a coffin. He stumbled to it anyway, instincts screaming for action even when logic told him there was no escape. His fingers curled around the handle—cold, unmoving—and he yanked.
Nothing.
Of course not.
He hit it once, then again, the noise sharp and hollow in the cramped cell. Desperation twisted into his gut like a blade. He slammed his shoulder into the metal, palms, fists, anything. The lock didn’t budge.
“Come on,” he growled, voice rough with the weight of exhaustion and fury. “Come on—open—”
The door didn’t yield.
Behind him, Thane hadn’t moved. Still slumped against the wall, blood dried in a black trail down his arm. His face was blank, but not numb—just too full. Like a dam about to split.
Riven turned toward him. “Are you just going to sit there?”
No response.
“Thane.” He moved closer. “We need to move. We need to find a way out. He said he’s getting into the estate. He said bydawn. We don’t have time to sit here feeling—whatever the hell this is.”
Thane lifted his eyes. Slowly. Something flickered in them—pain, old and endless.
“I remember the night I killed his family,” he said.
Riven blinked, caught off guard by the stillness in his voice. It wasn’t regretful. Not exactly. Just heavy.
“I was seventeen. Freshly bound to the House. My father had just been murdered, throat opened in the garden like he was nothing. Hollow Hand made it look like a robbery, but we knew. They left a message.”
Thane looked away, his gaze fixed on some distant memory beyond the stone wall.
“They wanted to send a warning. They wanted to show us we weren’t untouchable.” A pause. “So we showed them we were.”
Riven’s chest felt tight.
