Her — Amara's POV
His voice was calm. Too calm for what he'd just survived.
Chris sat in the center of the chamber, his arm still wrapped in thick white gauze, the faint stain of dried blood peeking through. He had already addressed the guards, already shattered the pride of the Blackwood Castle's entire security network. Heads were going to roll. Some already had.
But now, his eyes—those cold, calculating, unflinching eyes—were on me.
"Skylar is no longer untouchable," he said. "You may deal with her as you please."
I didn't move. For a moment, I just stood there, heart hammering with silent fury and triumph.
It wasn't just permission. It was vindication.
For all the smug looks Skylar had thrown my way. For every time she had called me "just another pawn." For every whisper behind closed doors that I was just a phase—just a shadow to Chris's memory of her.
Now?
Now she was mine to break.
But beneath my victorious poise, I felt something else too—weight.
Because this wasn't just revenge. It was justice. And justice had to be cold. Precise. Unapologetic.
"I won't kill her," I said quietly.
Chris raised a brow, but didn't speak.
"No," I continued, stepping closer, "death would make her a martyr in the eyes of some... especially the weak ones still loyal to the past."
He nodded slowly. Approving.
"I'll break her. Not her bones—her influence. Her name. Her legacy. She'll walk these halls forgotten. Disrespected. Unseen."
Chris's lips curved into a shadow of a smile.
"Then you understand perfectly."
I bowed slightly. "She will wish she died."
And with that, I turned on my heel and walked out, cloak swirling behind me like a shadowstorm.
The guards straightened as I passed, parting without a word.
Let the dismantling of the old queen begin.