---
"I assume you've already joined forces with the others," Bram said with a sly grin, lowering himself gracefully to the marble floor like a performer taking his mark. "Margaret, was it? The ever-elegant corpse."
Lucius's glare sharpened. "So what if I have? Tell me—what did you do to Elias? And where's Zara?"
Bram let out a drawn, almost wistful sigh. "Ah, so you do remember them. I was beginning to think you'd buried them in that cold little heart of yours." His smile curled cruelly. "But even if I knew, it's not like I'd tell you."
That was all Lucius needed to hear.
With a growl, he sprang forward, fists flying in precise arcs, his body moving with sharp, practiced grace. He struck with the honed efficiency of Silat, every movement aiming to end the fight. But Bram danced backward, sidestepping each blow with theatrical ease, as if the whole encounter were an elaborate game he'd rehearsed.
Their clash remained silent and hidden, careful not to draw the attention of the party beyond the balcony doors.
Meanwhile, inside the gilded ballroom, Margaret spun across the polished floor with Megh. Her steps were practiced, but her brows drew together in a subtle furrow of unease.
"If you'll excuse me," she said smoothly, attempting to step away from the dance. "I have other matters that require my attention."
But Megh's arm tightened around her waist, preventing her escape.
"Leaving so soon?" he murmured, his voice calm but laced with something colder—something wrong.
Margaret's wariness deepened, her senses bristling with caution.
Just then, the music faded and the ballroom lights shifted slightly.
At the center of the hall, the host stepped onto the raised platform, commanding everyone's attention. His voice trembled slightly as it echoed through the hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen... may I have your attention, please."
The dancing stopped.
The air turned still.
And Margaret's instincts screamed.