The world was a battlefield. Kings squabbled over borders while peasants bled in fields they would never own. In the capital, where desperation and ambition collided, I carved out my dominion—not in open war, but in whispers and shadows. Power wasn't in crowns; it was in secrets, in fear, in the quiet knowledge that I could unmake anyone with a flick of my wrist. I didn't inherit this control—I built it, brick by bloody brick, until the city's underbelly answered to me and me alone.

Tonight, the tavern hummed with the usual cacophony of drink and deceit. I sat in the corner, alone but never unguarded, my presence enough to make the boldest thieves tread carefully. Years of survival in this war-torn realm had taught me one thing: never ignore a shift in the air. The flicker of movement in the corner of my vision wasn't an accident. Someone had seen something—or thought they had.

I didn't look for the intruder. I didn't need to. My men moved at my unspoken command, their silence as precise as a blade's edge. The exits were sealed before the girl even realized she was caught.

She tried to slip away, her footsteps too quick, her breathing too loud. A rookie mistake. I let her think she had a chance until I stepped into her path.

The light from the lanterns played tricks on my face, or so I'd been told. Some said I looked like a phantom; others called me a devil. But it was the fear in her wide eyes that confirmed what I already knew—she had seen something she shouldn't.

"Ah, little mouse," I murmured, my voice low, deliberate. Fear was a weapon as sharp as any sword. "What were you hoping to find in my shadows?"

Her silence spoke volumes. I stepped closer, close enough to hear her heart hammering against her ribs. A faint grin tugged at my lips. "You've been where you shouldn't. Heard what you shouldn't. And now..." I leaned in, letting my words coil around her like a snare. "You know my secret. That means you're mine now, whether you like it or not."