He left me standing aside like discarded luggage, his towering figure looming like an immovable mountain peak that dominated the elevator's center. Even his breath—cold and measured—bore down on me like an iron vise, each exhale carrying the faint metallic scent of blood.
"Kenneth," his voice dropped to that dangerous register that made even seasoned vampires flinch, "it's time to act." The elevator's dim lighting carved shadows beneath his cheekbones as he spoke. "Lock Heather, Rui Jones, and all their sycophants in the obsidian dungeon. Activate the crimson defense systems!" He paused, a glacial glint flashing in his eyes like sunlight on dagger points. "And replace the guards at His Majesty's bedchambers with our men—discreetly."
