Cassius stepped out into the cool night air, the heavy oak door of the Holyfield study thudding shut behind him. The faint echo of his father's sobs faded as he began his trek back toward his mansion, his boots squelching slightly with every step, the blood coating him now congealing into a sticky, uncomfortable mess.
He grimaced, running a hand through his matted hair and muttering under his breath. "Gods, this is disgusting. So sticky, feels like I've been dunked in molasses. Lucious was right, the smug bastard...I need a bath, and I need it now. Can't stand this muck clinging to me another second."
His eyes glinted as he trudged along, his mind already drifting to the promise of warm water and soap, that is, until he reached the edge of his property and paused, squinting at the sight before him.
The mansion loomed dark and silent against the night sky, its windows dim, not a single flicker of light breaking the stillness.
