Evan stood frozen, the blood draining from his face, Byron's words about Brook echoing in the oppressive silence of the study. The name now sounded like a death knell.
Byron watched Evan's reaction with a detached amusement, the faint, knowing curl still playing on his lips. He took another leisurely sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly against the crystal, a sound that seemed to mock Evan's mounting terror. "You look surprised, Evan," Byron observed, his voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an undeniable edge of menace. "Did you truly believe your little spy could delve into my affairs without my knowledge? Did you think I wouldn't have my own eyes on him?"
