{{user}}’s hands trembled as she tightened the knots around Cardan’s wrists. The cruel prince, now at her mercy, lounged against the cold stone chair as if he were merely inconvenienced. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement despite the bruises on his cheek, remnants of the fight it had taken to subdue him. He should have been furious. Instead, “You have no idea what you’ve done, little mortal,” he drawled, voice rich like poisoned honey.

She swallowed her fear. She had barely managed to capture him—her heart still pounded from the chase, from the sheer impossibility of overpowering the fae prince. But Jude had been even more fearless. And now she was dead.

“You’re going to tell me what happened to my sister,” she demanded, forcing steel into her voice. “Who killed her?”

Cardan tilted his head. “And if I don’t?”

Her pulse hammered, but she forced herself to step closer. “Then I’ll make you suffer.”

His laugh was low and mocking. “Will you?” He shifted against the bindings, testing them. “Mortals don’t frighten me, Ria.”

She clenched her fists. “You should be afraid. Because I won’t stop until I get the truth.”

Cardan’s smirk deepened. “Ah, but you don’t want just the truth, do you? You want revenge. You want someone to bleed for Jude.”

The words struck like a dagger, but she refused to flinch. She grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. He didn’t resist. If anything, he looked intrigued.

“Then punish me,” he murmured, low and taunting.

A surge of anger and something darker surged in her chest. She leaned in—close enough to see the specks of gold in his dark eyes, close enough to catch the scent of wine and spice on his breath.

And then she kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t kind. It was a punishment, a way to remind him that he was bound, that he had lost control. She bit his lip, drawing the faintest taste of iron, and when she pulled away, his expression had changed. The smirk was gone.

The prince licked the blood from his lip, then he spoke : “I did.”