Chapter 250

#117

The moonlight streaming through the shattered warehouse skylight catches the silver at Adrian’s temples, illuminating features Eli has stared at in faded gold-framed photographs for over ten years. Every rational layer of defense Eli built, every instincts-driven reflex honed through years of survival, vanishes into a hollow, deafening void.

​“How is your mother?” Adrian asks softly. His tone carries a gentle, almost mundane warmth, as if they are standing in a living room on a Sunday afternoon rather than a damp, abandoned dockyard filled with the lingering stench of explosives.

​The sheer absurdity of the question snaps something inside Eli’s chest. A surge of wild, blinding rage hits his throat, turning his breath into a harsh, ragged rasp.

​“Don’t you fucking dare,” Eli warns, his hands curling into tight fists at his side