Chapter 43: Back from the dead
Roman watched closely as his longtime comrade’s friendly demeanor evaporated, replaced by something far more imposing and familiar. Thorne’s expression shifted—where once there was warmth, now there was only a blank, impassive mask. His eyes, once alive with casual ease, had hardened into chips of ice, glinting with a cold, calculating edge. Every trace of the man Roman had met a few days ago is gone and buried beneath a ruthless exterior that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
The change was palpable, like the air had been sucked out of the room. A suffocating weight settled over the space, and Roman could feel the pressure pushing down on him, making it hard to breathe. The temperature seemed to drop as Thorne’s aura shifted from a casual, approachable energy to something much darker, much heavier. This was the Thorne Roman had come to know over the years—the commander who could silence a room with a single look, whose mere presence could make seasoned soldiers second-guess their every move.
Thorne didn’t need to speak to assert his dominance. It radiated from him in waves, an invisible force that pressed against everything around him. His posture remained deceptively relaxed, but Roman knew better. Beneath that calm exterior was a man capable of extreme violence, a predator lying in wait. It was the same aura that had led Thorne to countless victories on the battlefield—a mix of lethal precision and unyielding strength.
The atmosphere around Thorne was stifling now, oppressive in its intensity. Roman felt as though he was standing in the eye of a storm, waiting for the inevitable devastation to follow. The weight of Thorne’s gaze, though currently focused on nothing in particular, was enough to make anyone feel small, insignificant. It was as if Thorne could see through people, stripping away their facades and exposing their weaknesses with terrifying clarity.
This was the Thorne Roman knew best—the commander whose cold, calculated mind had won wars and crushed enemies. The man whose presence could instill fear with a glance, whose very aura was a weapon as sharp and deadly as any blade.
*
As the carriage rolls up to the villa, Thorne steps out, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him. The setting sun casts an ominous glow, amplifying the air of expectation. Roman stays behind in the carriage, preparing to gather the remaining men and change into something more suitable.
Roman arrives at the villa with a trio in tow. The group includes a massive, bald man whose gory scar and imposing physique resemble a fierce, untamed beast. He grumbles loudly, his displeasure evident as he surveys the surroundings.
"Roman, what is this about?" the man growls, his voice as rough as gravel.