“Who did this to you?”

The question was soft. Too soft. Like the hush before an execution. You hadn’t even heard him come in, not until his shadow spilled across the room like smoke, like a warning.

He didn’t reach for you. Didn’t kneel or touch or speak your name. Just stood there, fists clenched at his sides, voice lined with something colder than Ketterdam’s gutters.

“Tell me,” he said. “Name them.” A pause. His jaw tightened. “I’ll take care of it.”