And there he was. His wrinkled face, his hard gaze, his shaggy mustache, his thick gray cloak that covered his entire body, and that black cane that he never let go of.
Duke Soto…
When I walked into the earl's common room and saw him standing there, looking at me like I was nothing, I wanted to jump on top of him, scratch him, bite him and yell "give me back my sister, you filthy old man! give her back to me!"
I took a deep breath and tried to quench the fire of anger burning inside me.
«You need Duke Soto… Remember your sister…» I repeated to myself.
"This black blood is the sister of your fiancée, Lord Duke?" Count Ortaez asked.
"It is right," the Duke replied with a smile on his wrinkled face.
When I heard the word 'fiancée' I almost threw up. My sister was thirteen years old, she couldn't be anyone's FIANCÉE. Much less the one of a dirty old man like the duke.
