Izan couldn't find peace. His thoughts churned like a violent storm, and his emotions were a tangled mess of guilt, anger, and confusion.
His usually composed demeanor was shattered, replaced by a whirlwind of emotions that left him disoriented and overwhelmed. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain calm under pressure, but now, all he felt was the crushing weight of guilt and shame.
He had wanted revenge, no, he had craved it. The need to bring justice to those responsible for his mother's death had consumed him. But in his blind pursuit, he had hurt an innocent, someone who, like him, had been a victim of Duke Marcelo's sins. And now, the truth bore down on him like a leaden weight, suffocating him with its finality.
"Where is he?" Izan's voice was a strained whisper, a plea wrapped in desperation.
