Chapter 87: A Breath From World War III???
"No!" Emerald reached out, shaking Quince desperately. "No, no, no... come on!"
But there was no response... just the dead man, lying motionless, eyes fixed on nothing, staring into space.
Emerald slowly stood up, her hand falling from Quince’s now lifeless shoulder like dead weight.
Her eyes lingered on his body for a moment longer, heart still catching up to the reality before her, then she turned away and stepped back.
Adrien didn’t say anything... he didn’t need to, but she could feel his gaze on her.
A full silent minute passed. Emerald was trying to process, and Adrien was giving her all the space and time she clearly needed.
"It wasn’t always like this," Emerald finally said quietly, breaking the long silence that had settled like fog.
Adrien tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow lifting in question, inviting her to continue.
"This pack..." she went on, her voice sounding steadier than she actually felt. "I used to run through these halls barefoot. Everyone knew me back then. People would smile just seeing me. My dad—he’d lift me onto his shoulders during council meetings just to make me laugh."
Adrien remained quiet, allowing her the moment.
"I thought..." she paused, taking in a shaky breath that caught in her throat. "I thought when I took over, I could bring some of that joy back... some of that warmth, that light. But now..." She exhaled. "Now it’s just blood. Betrayal. And regret."
"Do you think it’s all your fault?"