Lorian’s expression didn’t change as he adjusted the cuff of his dark, embroidered coat as the deep hue of midnight blue blended into the shadows of the room.

“It’s simple. Gregor Thorne, the innkeeper, and his daughter Lila—they matter to Ethan Vale. Use them. Hurt them. Do whatever is necessary to force Ethan’s hand.”

Derek’s head snapped up, his face pale against the dirty, tattered tunic he wore and his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fear. “Lila... the girl? You want us to—?”

Lorian’s eyes narrowed as the fine stitching on his coat’s sleeve caught the dim light as he cut off Derek’s question with a mere glance.

“Do you have a problem with that, Derek?” His voice was soft, but the weight of the threat was unmistakable.

Derek hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as he fought for words. Tomas quickly shook his head, stepping in before Derek could say something foolish. “No. No problem at all. We’ll... we’ll handle it.”

“Good,” Lorian said, his gaze never leaving Derek. “Because if you don’t, you’ll end up like Luca.”

Derek flinched, and Tomas shot him a warning look, making it clear that they couldn’t afford to refuse. They had no choice in the matter. Failure wasn’t an option.

“You’ll have until the next moonrise to complete the task,” Lorian added, pushing himself away from the table. “Ethan needs to be forced out, and you two are going to make that happen.”

Tomas nodded stiffly. Derek, though visibly shaken, managed a weak agreement. “Yes, Lorian.”

Lorian gave them one last look, his expression cold and calculating. Weak men bend easily, he thought. But even weak men can be useful tools, if pushed correctly.

“Then go,” Lorian said, dismissing them with a flick of his hand. “And remember—failure will not be tolerated.”

Tomas and Derek scrambled to their feet, their bodies stiff with fear. Without another word, they left the room, the weight of Lorian’s command pressing down on them as they disappeared into the corridor.

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Lorian stood in the silence that followed, his mind already turning to the next steps. If Tomas and Derek failed, it wouldn’t matter. He had other plans. Plans that ensured Ethan Vale wouldn’t escape his grasp.

Lorian stood in the now-empty room as the silence grew thick and suffocating.

Tomas and Derek had left, their hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

He hadn’t needed to see their faces to know the fear that gripped them—it was the same fear that had shattered Luca.

But fear alone wasn’t enough. He needed results. And that was where Ethan Vale came in.

Ethan. He turned the name over in his mind like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. You’ve become a thorn in my side. One I can’t ignore any longer.

The boy was different. Lorian had sensed it from the start, back in the cavern when Ethan had lied about his identity.

Most men, especially those of Ethan’s age, would have crumbled under the pressure of deception in front of him. But Ethan hadn’t. He stood firm, weaving lies with a confidence that should’ve been impossible for someone so young and inexperienced.

And now, Kieran was dead. That alone was proof enough that Ethan wasn’t some lost, wandering fool.

He was dangerous. _More dangerous than I gave him credit for.__

Lorian moved to the window, the cold breeze brushing past his face as he stared out over the darkened streets of Hallowford. The town seemed so still, so peaceful—but beneath that calm exterior lay the tension that had been building ever since Ethan’s arrival.

This boy, this threat... he’s becoming more than just a nuisance. He’s disrupting my plans.

Lorian’s hand unconsciously went to the hilt of his rapier, his fingers brushing against the cold steel. He could have dealt with Ethan the way he had with so many others—through proxies, by sending men like Kieran to handle his dirty work.

But that hadn’t worked. Not with Ethan.

If Tomas and Derek fail—and they likely will—then it will be up to me.

Lorian had never been one to underestimate his enemies, but he had learned over the years that true threats needed to be eliminated personally.

He couldn’t afford to rely on others when it came to matters of this magnitude. Ethan had already proven himself resourceful, dangerous, and unpredictable.

The memory of Luca’s lifeless body flickered through Lorian’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Luca’s death was nothing—just the price of weakness.

But Ethan’s life? That was something Lorian would take himself if necessary.

Cold certainty settled in his chest. This wasn’t about ego or pride; it was about control. Men like Ethan, who disrupted the delicate balance Lorian had built, could not be allowed to live.

If it comes to it, I’ll kill him myself.

Lorian’s gaze sharpened as he stared out into the distance, the weight of his decision sinking in. He wouldn’t enjoy it—not in the way men like Tomas or Kieran would—but he would do it, efficiently and without hesitation.

Because in the end, there was only room for one man to hold power in Hallowford.

And it wasn’t going to be Ethan Vale.