Miha continued to blink in her surprised state, unable to say or do anything with Constantine's single nod. It felt like salvation and damnation at the same time. She quickly sought his eyes' rather peculiarly, haunting color, expecting answers she was sure to not find. She couldn't tell if the man was lying, and it frightened her that she had no hint of what he had in mind. Still, she was putting her faith in him despite her instincts screaming at the back of her mind that anything unfamiliar doesn't come in free.
She thought that damned be to hell if she's wrong, but heaven guide her soul if she's right!
From the sides, she looked towards Vanriche, omitting his respected title of lord from her vocabulary because she deemed it not worthy of any respect, as the sole reason they had placed the title 'lord' before their names. Miha decided it's what's most appropriate after his order of wanting her killed. This had made up her mind to call him the way he is, or better yet, when she finds the time, she'd have him the vilest name she can create that can match his ugly personality.
Anything that would wound his pride, Miha now considers as something joyous.
Looking back, the proud lord appeared as if he was in disbelief and, simultaneously, somewhat shaken by his cousin's implicit declaration.
"Whatever you're both playing, that ends here," he managed to say before a voice from outside the oak wooden doors was heard. The loud creak coming its way paved to someone from behind it. Pointed yellow heels clicked on the shiny marbles as someone lean emerged from the door.
"Yellow heels," someone murmured from the sides. "Ah! My lady!"
Miha stared after the rather stunning angel that walked out from the shadows of the night. Her wide, wheat-colored curls bounced on her shoulders as she hurried toward the middle of the chaos that Miha herself was apparently causing, unaware yet of the gruesome scene ahead.
It was no surprise that Constantine remained oblivious to the commotion around him as he kneeled before Miha, his gaze unwavering from where she lay almost like a corpse to be mourned.
Miha tried to ignore him as she faced her way to where the blonde woman was striding, her heels like a bomb that fell on her throbbing head.
Her gaze landed on the surprise on Vanriche's face, which caused Miha somehow to panic all the same. However, she'd have to remember that this man had the same blood as the monster beside her, and she was only proved right when he masked his expression in a second with the unlikely indifferent expressions these cousins shared to one another.
The angelic-looking woman strode from where the lord stood, stopping midway upon noticing the trails of blood that landed on the tip of her pointed, yellow shoes.
The woman's face drowned in color, but she kept her composure, and calmly observed the situation she had found herself in. Her eyes like verdant fields, were wide with terror as she stood there, aghast at what to do about the lifeless body on the floor that was twisted in an awful manner that can only be seen in nightmares.
"Sal," Vanriche greeted, the muscles on his defined arm blocking her view as he arrived at her side in a split second.
"What is happening?" the woman, Sal, as the grumpy lord called her, managed to whisper as she gripped the sleeve of Vanriche's coat. He wouldn't let her see beyond her view, but Sal seemed undeterred as she shoved the lord away to unravel the brutality ahead.
Miha's eyes never left Sal as her body began to tremble excessively like she was about to faint. Still, she gave her credit and admiration for not fainting on the spot as what would be the likely reaction of anyone who'd witness this with a frail heart.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Sal secured her shaking form in the warmth of her feathery, white coat instead. Her voice shook as their argument began, their voices loud and clear to everyone around as the grip of Sal's fingers softened on her coat, her eyes containing only pure fear. They remained that way as she turned her head back to Constantine, who regarded them with unpleasant boredom.
Too much had been happening, and Miha feared for the worst that she could no longer take all of it in one go. Sal's reaction had been a reminder of what she felt, and she prefer to act tough while she still can, especially when the enemy prey on anyone's weakness. Nothing good would've come out if she started to let fear cloud her mind the way Sal just had with hers.
"He's dead, and you can't even tell me how it happened," Sal announced. "What would they have said? What will I even tell his wife and children?" her tears fell endlessly this time around.
"Take him back to the basement," Vanriche angrily gestured to Constantine, the cousins locking deathly gazes. He held tight to Sal's slender arms, ignoring her demands for an answer.
"What have you done with my guard?" Sal seemed unwilling to let the topic slip away as she pounded on Vanriche's chest, successfully regaining his attention back to her.
"Did you hear me?" the woman pointed at her ear. "He has a family waiting on the other side of the continent," her words clipped with bitterness. "How can I ever tell them?" Her sob worsened upon mentioning of breaking the news to the man's family.
It was then that Miha felt her lips tremble and her eyes moistened, knowing how heartbreaking it would be to lose someone close to your heart, no matter the cause of it. Constantine remained impassive on her side, exhibiting no signs of even a pinch of remorse.
Looking away from him, she caught how Vanriche turned to the two of them as he held Sal's hand.
At that moment, she saw nothing but the promise of something unimaginable, and she feared for her life.
Constantine broke her trance as he slid his arm on her side. It headed straight underneath her lower back, his fingers curling securely to her sides. Miha yelped in response, and jerked him away with the faintest glare she could muster.
The devil was known to be persistent, and so was he.
Constantine continued his business with an unreadable expression, scooping Miha in his muscular arms and placing her like a sack on his broad shoulders.
Miha's nose flared out of anger, but perhaps half of it was because she had been too shaken by what he did and that she fear her life more when Sal shot her the same terrified look she had when she saw the lifeless guard on the floor.
"Put me down!" the anger in her hoarse voice played for seconds. "Let go!" she delivered several punches on his back that had no effect, the damned man remaining undeterred from what she was doing. Instead of inflicting force onto him, Miha had been the one to get hurt from her own hand that hit several of his solid-rock muscles.
'Damn it to hell!' she thought in contempt.
Sal covered her mouth with her hand, "You're disgracing her!"
"Put her down, Tino," Vanriche commanded as he joined the ruckus. "I've had enough in my hands, and you're not adding another sum to it."
"This is excessive!" Sal threw her hands in the air as she let out a sob. "Someone enlighten me why this is happening."
"Sal, you should go back to your carriage," Vanriche pulled her behind him as he caught up to Constantine's steps.
"Let…" A fit of cough came out, and Miha managed to suppress it as best she could, "…go!"
"Good," Constantine smiled, and it was ethereal in nature, and a horror she'd rather not see again.
"Your words are coming out clearly today," that devious smile remained and made her heart clench, of course, not in a good way.
Every time he did that—that exact tender look he was giving her that looked as if he had pure intentions—Oh, did it make her believe for a second that he was indeed not what she had expected him to be.
But he just isn't, and Miha knows that for a fact.
Unstoppable in his crusade, Constantine began his walk barefoot, only for Vanriche to stand in front of him fast. He gripped Sal's wrist, the poor woman shrieking as she tried her best to catch up to him.
"By the Gods, let her down now," he growled.
Constantine didn't give a reply as he strode past him the way he did with Sal.
"Listen," Vanriche sounded desperate as he tried again, "you would only put harm to the family name."
"Haven't I already?" Constantine remarked, his eyes darkening upon the mention of family.
"This will not go well no matter how I look at it," Vanriche tried to explain. "And besides, the first crescent moon is coming—"
"Half an hour," Constantine cut him. "Give me half an hour to speak to her."
"In God's name, someone, please tell me what is happening!" Sal pulled Vanriche back and they engaged in a somewhat brief game of tug and war.
"Not now," he pushed Sal back and clenched his fists. "Family dinner," Vanriche called out one last time as he glared past the both of them, dragging a raddled Sal on his side. "I'd have to deal with her, and you with that. You're expected to come with your guest after an hour."
"You're surprisingly generous," Constantine beamed.
Vanriche looked unamused. "This one would take me double what it would take yours," he said as Sal opened her mouth to protest.