Dawn bled across Lake Geneva, a wash of bruised violet and sickly yellow that did nothing to warm the world. They knelt on the jetty stones, two shivering, bleeding creatures hauled from the deep, clinging to each other as if the lake itself might rise to reclaim them. The Banque Lombard groaned and sighed behind them, a dying beast bleeding water and smoke into the mist.Sabatine’s assessment was swift, clinical, driven by a cold, clean fury that burned away the last of his shock. Anton was alive, but pale as parchment, his breath coming in shallow, pained hitches. The graze on his ribs was superficial, but the loss of blood, the cold, the relentless trauma—it was a tally adding up to collapse.“Can you stand?” Sabatine’s voice was gravel, scraped raw by smoke and lake water.Anton nodded, a stiff, unconvincing motion. With Sabatine’s help, he lurched to his feet, swaying. His eyes, though clouded with pain, scanned the mist-shrouded grounds, the empty moorings. “Kaine.”The name was
Last Updated : 2025-12-15 Read more