The gates of the estate creaked open by dawn, the carriage rolling in under heavy guard. The horses were restless, and so was the man inside. A hooded figure, slouched and pale, peeked nervously through the iron bars of the carriage window. His wrists bore shackles, though loosely bound now.
Lucien stood waiting in the courtyard, arms crossed, Rowan by his side. Samuel was already posted along the rooftop perimeter, scanning for any movement beyond the estate walls. Even the birds had gone quiet.
"Is this the man?" Lucien asked flatly.
"Yes, Your Highness," Rowan confirmed. "Name's Corin. Merchant from Rivelton. Got mixed into the brothel ring three years ago."
Corin stepped down, barely able to stand. His eyes darted everywhere until they landed on Lucien, and froze. Something in the prince's gaze made him straighten involuntarily.
"I... I came like I promised," Corin stammered. "Please… I don't want to die."
