The moment the clock struck twelve, everyone braced themselves.
Some threw their hands over their heads as if shielding themselves from falling debris.
Others dove beneath the elegant tables, knocking over champagne and sending canapés scattering across the marble floor. .
Marcus himself looked around with terrified eyes.
He scanned every inch of his domain, searching for cracks, for weaknesses, for any sign that Mika's threats were about to come true.
But...nothing happened.
No explosions. No reality-shattering cracks. No horde of vengeful shadows pouring through the sky.
The garden remained exactly as it had been—glittering lights, elegant decorations, restrained prisoners on their sacrificial tables.
The only sound was the nervous breathing of a hundred and fifty terrified guests.
And then, slowly, the tension began to break.
"I knew it." Marcus breathed, his voice trembling with relief. "I knew it. That little bastard was lying. He was bluffing the entire time!"
