He stepped forward in silence.
But instead of coming to Rocco, he stopped beside the older man and knelt at his feet.
"Ragar…? Why…? What did you do to Ragar…? You… what did you do to him?"
Rocco's hands began to tremble.
Not from fear.
No, this wasn't fear.
This was rage.
This wasn't just adrenaline or nervous shaking.
This wasn't something he could brush off as bravado.
There was fear, sure—but the overwhelming emotion gripping him was pure, seething fury.
Someone had harmed his family.
And that fact alone sent white-hot anger coursing through him.
Yet the man before him showed no reaction to Rocco's rising hostility.
He remained composed, his smile unwavering as he spoke, his tone as smooth as ever.
"His consciousness is under my control. If I were to command him to kill you right now… would you understand what that means?"
Rocco sucked in a sharp breath.
He did understand.
