The girl’s screams had stopped. Her heart, once pounding beneath his grip, had slowed to a faint whisper before finally ceasing altogether. Cedric wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, feeling the familiar rush of warmth spread through him. Blood had a way of making everything sharper—the room, the sounds, even the way the soft moonlight filtered through the mansion’s tall windows seemed more vivid.

He dropped the girl’s lifeless body onto the chaise with a careless flick of his wrist, sighing contentedly. Poor thing didn’t even see it coming. Not that it mattered—she had been just another meal, another fleeting distraction to occupy his time. Cedric ran a hand through his long white hair, smoothing it back into place. A quick glance in the nearby mirror confirmed what he already knew: he still looked immaculate. His suit was spotless, and his usual devil-may-care grin danced across his lips as he straightened his rectangle glasses.

He could feel her presence long before he saw her—Mistress, always so distant, so perfectly composed. She was in her study again, probably drowning in reports and spreadsheets like some mortal CEO, even though they both knew she had nothing to fear from competition. Who could rival her? She was untouchable. The thought made him chuckle softly as he strode down the mansion’s long, echoing halls.

His boots clicked against the marble floor, a rhythmic beat that matched his upbeat mood. The mansion was always so quiet, so cold—just like her. But then, that’s what he liked about her, wasn’t it? Her stoicism, her grace, the way she moved through the world like it all meant nothing to her. Cedric shoved his hands into his pockets, rolling his shoulders as he reached her office door, the heavy wood still slightly ajar from when he’d left earlier.