Calhoun walked down the empty roads of the village, his body moving nothing less to a shadow because of the black attire that he wore. The night was quiet and peaceful. But he wasn't satisfied with the kill he made a few minutes ago back in the maid's house. If it was possible, he would have torn the maid's limbs, going one after another, before ripping her head out of her body. But he didn't want to spill blood tonight.
Sure, he had promised Madeline about not killing people, but the promise was only for the day before, after and on the wedding day.
As much as his ears picked on rumours that he didn't care about, he didn't like people speculating rumours about Madeline's mindset and turning her family or her against him. Calhoun had been careful enough to lay his web out, and Madeline had stepped far into it. Almost at the centre, ready to live with him in the castle.
