Felix stared at Nero Hartley's shattered body on the living room floor, his knees going weak.
The traitor… Alben's words were so threatening. He felt so guilty and scared that even those words felt like an attack on him.
Did they want to kill him because he was the traitor?
Felix couldn't breathe. The coppery tang of old blood filled the room, clashing sharply with the sweet scent of Alben's chilled juice.
Alben leaned back, his silk robe parting slightly as he crossed his legs, a sharp, mocking smirk fixed on his face.
"Ben," Felix choked out, his voice cracked and raw from his swollen jaw. "Do you want to kill me?"
Alben smiled at Felix, tilting his head with genuine, dark amusement. "I don't know what the hell went through your head, Felix. You confronted Salvatore? You sent Nero's men right into a trap Sal set? Seriously, Felix! I knew you were desperate, but I didn't think you were suicidal."
