"Get changed."
The cold walls of Raja’s headquarters made the room feel lifeless. Brightlight chandelier flickered above, casting shadows on the floor. Tales sat on a couch, his body slumped forward, the weight of the past days are too much to bear. He was wrapped in Raja’s large coat, his own clothes gone—torn and useless. The coat was warm but heavy, a reminder of everything that had happened.
His body ached with every breath. Cuts and bruises covered him, and the marks from the whip still burned. But all of this seems to be buried with the suffocating silence and tension in the room.
Raja was walking away from the living room now carrying a silence. He walked towards the staircase in order to went to his study, his hands gripping the railings tightly. His white shirt was stained with blood—Dimitri’s blood. The katana he’d used to cut down Dimitri’s men lay was on his hand beside him, still dirty with the fight.
The silence between them stretched. Tales couldn’t take it anymore.
He
