Just as I was enjoying the sweet relief of victory and silently congratulating myself on my brilliant transformation of kidnappers into furniture, the atmosphere shifted. I felt it first—a chill slipping along my spine, cold and unsettling, a whisper of darkness that drained the warmth from the room.
The laughter and casual conversation instantly died away, replaced by tense silence. My family turned as one toward the shadowed doorway, their playful expressions hardening, becoming sharp, dangerous.
Then he stepped into the room, as calm and arrogant as ever.
His pale face, framed by dark hair, appeared ghostly beneath the dim torchlight, his piercing gray eyes glittering with a cold, cruel amusement that sent a wave of nausea twisting through my stomach. His gaze swept casually over the room, taking in the trembling bandits crawling around like obedient dogs, the unfortunate pair still frozen in position as my makeshift throne, and then, finally, he met my eyes.
