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There was no softness in it. No hesitation.
Just a demand.
Silence followed again—but it wasn't empty anymore.
It was filled with expectation. Pressure.
Behind them, even the maids—Fey, Rui, Lena, Mona, Mira, Lilyn—stood stiff, their usual composure cracked just enough to show unease. None of them spoke, but their eyes said enough. They understood what a blood contract meant. And they understood what it could take away.
Mira's fingers tightened slightly around her sleeve.
Lena glanced at Rui, who gave the smallest shake of her head—don't speak. Not now.
Chloe shifted subtly, her gaze flicking toward Ronan.
Something about this—
It didn't feel right.
Ronan noticed. Of course he did.
His expression had already hardened, the earlier ease gone completely. His posture straightened—not out of habit, but instinct.
Very serious.
Black and Johny mirrored it without thinking. Shoulders squared. Backs straight. Eyes forward.
They knew this kind of moment.
