The night was still.
A low fog crept along the outer grounds of the Gamma's estate, curling around the walls like a serpent. Hidden in its folds, a shadow slipped silently through the trees—unseen, unchallenged.
She had been here once before—when she whispered to Julianne behind prison bars.
Now, her target was far more dangerous... and far more useful.
The Gamma.
She found him in the garden behind his estate, hunched on a stone bench beneath a gnarled tree, his shoulders heavy with grief. His face was hollow, his eyes sunken. The memory of Sisi’s public execution still haunted him—and the image of his wife's sickly frame, curled and withering in their bed, clung to his every breath.
He didn’t look up when the woman stepped into the moonlight.
“I warned Sisi once,” she said softly,
