The underground chamber was suffocating. The flickering torchlight cast jagged shadows across the stone walls, making them seem alive.

Mattheo stood in the center, his wand still clutched tightly in his fingers. His chest rose and fell with sharp, erratic breaths, his eyes dark and wild.

"I k/IIed them all," he muttered, his voice eerily calm.

Theodore, who had been pacing just moments ago, stopped mid-step. His entire body stiffened, his breath hitching in his throat.

Mattheo let out a short, breathless laugh, almost as if he himself couldn’t believe what he had done. But when he spoke again, his voice was sharper, colder.

"They’re de4d. Every single one of them." His gaze flickered over the group, gauging their reactions. "And not just the men…" He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but wasn’t regret either. "But the women."

The words hung in the air like a thick fog, settling in everyone's lungs, pressing down on their chests.

Draco’s normally pale complexion drained even further, his usual arrogance fading into something closer to unease. His fingers twitched at his sides as if he wanted to say something, but the words never came.

Blaise’s dark eyes darted between Mattheo and the floor, his jaw tightening as he shifted on his feet, uncomfortable. Lorenzo swallowed hard, his fingers flexing against his wand as if bracing for whatever came next.

Regulus, ever composed, barely moved—except for the way his knuckles whitened around the grip of his wand, the only sign of tension in his otherwise unreadable expression.

And then there was you.

You had seen de4th before. You had delivered it yourself, watched the life drain from eyes that had once been filled with defiance or fear. But this… this was different.

The room felt colder. The silence stretched too long, too tight, suffocating.

Mattheo took a slow step forward, his presence overwhelming, eyes scanning the faces before him. He was daring someone to speak, to challenge him.

But no one did.