Page 119 of Bound to the Dreadlord

It’s the truth. And somehow, that terrifies me more than a lie.

I don’t get a chance to ask him why.

The moment shatters too fast, reality crashing into us like a blade to the throat.

A sound—soft, too soft. The crunch of a boot outside.

Veylan is already moving. A predator scenting blood.

My pulse kicks against my ribs as I grab my dagger from the bedside. The air shifts, thickening.

Then there’s a blur of movement.

The door explodes into smitheerens.

A dark figure lunges into the room, blade flashing. Veylan meets him before I can even scream.

Steel clashes. The room is too small, too confined, and I barely roll away in time as a dagger slams into the mattress where I just lay.

The spy is fast. Not fast enough.

Veylan drives him back, a vicious dance of metal and fury. A snarl tears from his lips. The spy stumbles—a fraction of a second’s mistake. But that’s all Veylan needs.

One twist. One snap.

The man crumples to the floor. Dead.

I don’t even have time to catch my breath before Veylan grabs me.

"Get up. Get dressed. Now."

The steel in his voice leaves no room for argument.

We don’t waste a second.

I dress quickly, lacing my boots with shaking hands. Veylan is already strapping his sword to his back, his movements too precise. Too controlled.

That’s how I know we’re in trouble.

"Who was he?"I ask, pulling my cloak tight around me.

"House Velkiron,"Veylan says darkly."A scout."

My stomach twists.

"That means?—"

"They’re already coming. Not just my father."

The words hit me like a fist to the gut. Bounty hunters and scouts. They tracked us faster than expected.

I swallow hard. We need to run. We need to move now.

But Veylan isn’t moving.

He is standing still.

Staring at the dead body. At the blood pooling into the cracks of the wooden floor.

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