Izan strode out of the emperor's chamber, the weight of the report he had just delivered lingering heavily on his mind.
Dillion, his ever-loyal guard, walked closely behind him, their steps echoing through the palace halls.
It was hard for Izan to shake the unease that had settled in his chest after Madame Lula's confession during her interrogation.
The woman hadn't wasted any time spilling every detail, almost too eager to shift the blame onto the late Ohtis Marcelo.
The fact that Ohtis had supposedly been the one to buy Ireen and hide her away at the Velvet Moon Pavilion to satisfy his own obsessions wasn't sitting right with Izan.
Something about the story felt too convenient, too clean.
And the way Madame Lula had spoken, so quickly, so confidently, raised red flags in Izan's mind.
"She didn't even hesitate," Izan muttered, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. "Not even a moment of resistance."
