Bait on the Battlefield
Instantly, a primal, suffocating dread crawled up my spine.
In our world, the matriarch is sacred. If a single signature could have saved her, there was no way Isabella would have stayed away.
Just then, my personal phone rang—an encrypted video call request.
The moment I answered, a man in a garish clown mask appeared on the screen. The background was a damp, lightless basement; the sound of dripping water echoed through the speaker.
"My dear Lorenzo, it's been too long."
The voice was modulated, shrill and piercing, carrying a manic sneer.
Sikat na Kabanata