244. CHRISTOPHER H. (POV)

244. CHRISTOPHER H. (POV)
“I—I didn’t—” Lazarus begins, but falls silent as Caim tilts his head just slightly, as if the verdict has already been pronounced.

“Holk, please…”

“You broke the rules,” Holk went on. “You didn’t just take a contract behind our backs—you hid it from us. Kept secrets. Made a mess, dragged heat onto the organization’s name, and ran your mouth like you had the right.”

Lazarus opens and closes his mouth, clearly searching for an excuse, but finds nothing. Sweat slides down the side of his face, glinting under the lights. The entire room holds its breath, and even William’s guards, men who have faced death, seem uneasy.

“…You made Caim come all the way here to clean up your mess.”

Caim remains still, but the pressure radiating from him is suffocating. His face shows no emotion, only that cold emptiness that makes it clear Lazarus’s life, or death, means nothing.

Then, he raises one hand, and Holk instantly falls silent.

He finally looks at William, long and piercing, then shifts his gaze to mine. He runs a hand through his blond hair, keeping it slicked back, before sliding both hands into his pants’ pockets—a gesture that should seem calming, if he didn’t look like a beast pretending to wear a suit.

“On behalf of the Black Scythe, I sincerely apologize, Lord Houghton.” His voice is rough, scraping against my ears. The tone is flat, formal, and clearly hollow. He doesn’t feel sorry. He doesn’t feel anything. These are polished words, purely damage control. None of it is genuine. “My associate caused a bit of trouble, but I assure you, your wife has nothing else to fear.”

A bit of trouble?

“I assure you, I will handle it... appropriately,” Caim continues, his full attention on me, as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of us. “Scythe has no intention of harming you or your family. This was Lazarus’s selfish decision, and he will pay the proper price for it.”

I nod stiffly. “I appreciate that.”

“As a gesture of goodwill, I’d like to offer compensation.” Caim places a hand on Lazarus’s shoulder—and the man pales. “If you ever need anything in the future, consider the Scythe at your disposal. After all, a debt unpaid… is a reckoning due.”

The idea that this organization owes us anything makes my stomach turn. Associating with them—as a noble, a parliamentarian, a father—is a terrible idea.

“Thank you, but—”

“We appreciate it,” William cuts in, nodding as well, but less tense than I am.

Caim gives Lazarus a gentle nudge, light but enough to make his body stumble forward. Holk grabs him by the nape, gives a quick nod of goodbye, and pushes him through the same door they came in, following Caim like his shadow.

Long moments pass in silence, and even in their absence, we can still feel them. It’s a thick, unpleasant pressure, like we’ve been stained with something foul… something that will never fully come off.

Charlotte is the first to move. Slowly, as if she’s just surfaced from underwater, she lifts her head. The metallic sheen of the silver mask still hides part of her face, but her eyes… they look relieved.

“Is it over?” she asks, no longer trying to keep her voice low or hide the emotion in her tone.

“Yes.” William sighs and forces himself to relax the shoulders that must be sore from how tense they were, just like mine. “Your part’s done.”

She slowly removes the silver mask, revealing a frightened expression that, honestly, doesn’t look much like my wife, but it was enough to fool Lazarus. With the right dress, the right hairstyle, and the glittering hairclip like a fancy bullseye, no one suspected when Elodie returned to the ballroom in Charlotte’s place.

Elodie lets out a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh air again, though she doesn’t know it’ll likely mark her more than she realizes.

“Who was that man?” she asks, sitting down slowly in the armchair in the corner of the room, as if her legs have finally given out. “The tall one.”

“His name is Caim,” William says, loosening his tie. “Second-in-command at the Scythe. Right hand of the leader.”

Elodie raises her eyebrows slightly, as if that makes sense. One look at him, one second in the same room, and you know he’s different.

“Lazarus might’ve been running his mouth about them, but he wasn’t lying. Being on the Scythe’s blacklist means there’s a price on your head. It’s like bleeding in a tank full of sharks—they’ll follow you until they take a bite.”

She frowns, narrowing her eyes slightly with suspicion. “How do you know so much about that, William?”

“Maybe I’m trying to get recruited?” he smirks, sarcastically, making Elodie roll her eyes. “Honestly, I didn’t know much. I’d heard whispers about the organization, but I hadn’t looked too deep until Lazarus became a problem. But, as they say… know your enemy better than yourself.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not exactly how it goes…” I sigh. “If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.”

“Isn’t that basically the same thing?” William shrugs, his smile widening. I can’t tell if he’s trying to ease the tension or just can’t help himself from joking, even in a moment like this.

“Sun Tzu was talking about strategy, not playing chicken with an assassin guild,” I retort, my voice still slightly rough. The metallic taste of dry fear lingers in my mouth, stuck in my throat.

William chuckles, but it’s short and tight. He moves toward Elodie, looking at her for a moment, like he needs to be sure she’s really okay.

“Thank you for this, Elodie,” I say, offering her a soft smile. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course… I couldn’t just stand by knowing someone wanted to hurt Lotte.” Elodie says, her voice a little sharp, as if Lazarus could still be a threat. “She’s my cousin—my sister at heart. She matters to me, too. I’d never leave her alone, no matter what.”

“You were incredible, Lo,” William says, with rare sincerity—an unusual tone from someone usually so nonchalant. “Lazarus could’ve figured it out at any second. But you didn’t flinch.”

Elodie doesn’t respond right away. Her gaze drifts to the door where Caim and the others left, then lands on me. There’s something in her eyes. Not fear, not anymore… but a kind of weight, like something inside her had shifted.

“Caim looked at me like he could see everything inside,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Like… he knew I wasn’t Charlotte. But he let it slide.”

“He did,” William nods, with no hesitation in his voice. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his expression is more serious than usual. “He probably knew from the very first second. Maybe even before walking in… He just didn’t care. He doesn’t give a damn about us. He didn’t come to England for Charlotte or the Houghtons — he came for Lazarus.”

“Well, I don’t feel bad,” Elodie says, shaking her head thoughtfully, then curling her lip. “Not even a little.”

Then her eyes soften again, and she looks back at me, fingers twisting nervously, uncertain and anxious. “What happens now?”

“Now…” I pause, feeling hope bubble just beneath my skin. The kind I finally allow myself to feel. “We give Evelyn what she deserves—a life behind bars.”

William nods, exhaling. “We’ll need to move fast. Caim may have taken Lazarus, but Evelyn’s still out there. I bet she’s already heading for that warehouse.”

“That’s what you were doing with his phone?” Elodie asks, slowly removing the sparkling hairclip. “She thinks Charlotte’s there?”

“Charlotte is there,” I admit, the bitterness sharp on my tongue as I remember her stubbornness. I didn’t want her involved in this. I begged her not to be. But my wife… when she sets her mind to something, nothing can stop her.

“What?” Elodie practically chokes, turning to me again in shock—her entire face a mix of fear and outrage. So expressive, huh. “You let Charlotte meet with Evelyn?! Are you out of your mind?”

“Don’t worry… She’s not going to lay a single finger on Charlotte.” William says, letting Lazarus’s bullet drop from his fingers. The metallic clink rings louder than I expected. “It’s the end of the line for her.”